#i wanted to do a bunch more and render them nicer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kbsd · 4 years

Note

not sure if you’ve answered this before, but what’s your process look like when you make an amv? i’m just curious and in constant awe of ppl who can make videos like you do :)

hello all!!! i have answered this before and i have a vid help tag with other asks i’ve gotten about stuff like this! but i’ve gotten several more messages along these lines so i’m just going to answer a bunch of them together (under a cut since i love to ramble about editing lol). i do just wanna say i’m definitely not the authority on video editing and obv everyone has their own techniques!

edit: i just finished typing all this up and it’s SO long so sorry in advance LMAO god bless anyone who reads this entire thing

so i work in news tv and we have a very specific workflow for writing scripts, sourcing video, producing, and editing. i’ve just applied that to making amvs! for every video i make, i copy the song lyrics into a google doc and adjust them to match the song i’ve cut (i often will trim songs for time and/or content purposes). then i start planning! i’ll mark down what clip i want to use for each lyric next to that line, and any sound bites i want to use (with episode numbers!). i’ll color code between video and sound bites and lyrics, so my scripts end up looking something like this (for my honeybee amv):

doing the planning ahead of time makes everything much easier when it’s a video that spans the whole show or involves a lot of sourcing, like honeybee or sports analogies. that way when i get to the actual editing process, i already know what i’m going to do and have a game plan. for videos like happy ending or believe it or not, where i’m mainly just pulling from a few episodes, i can just plan it in my head as opposed to writing it all down, and produce as i edit. obviously i do make in-the-moment decisions while editing—sometimes a shot doesn’t work the way i thought it would, or i go where the video takes me—but planning ahead definitely helps. i know some people use spreadsheets as well, with columns for lyrics, video clips, and sound bites if applicable. once you find a system that works, it actually goes pretty quickly.

as for sourcing clips themselves/finding clips within episodes, i talked about that here and kind of here. the short version is that transcripts are a must, and the supernatural wiki is hugely helpful by cataloguing all the hugs, prayers, phone calls, etc. in the show. gifmakers that tag episode numbers on their posts are your friends. it gets easier the more video you make—that’s another huge reason i make the google docs for each video (even the ones i plan in my head, i end up going back and making a loose script with episode notes just for reference). if i can’t remember where something is but i know i used it in another video, i can easily reference past scripts!

i also cut all my videos in the same project in premiere pro, so i can flip between them easily. instead of checking a past script, i can just go to the video sequence itself and copy the clip i’m looking for! this was especially helpful when i match cut together the 5x18 and 4x22 wall slam shots for my bestie video, and then stole it from myself for honeybee hahaha. at any given time i have at least 8 sequences open:

because of the sheer volume of videos i make, it’s worth it for me to download the entire show—i have all 327 episodes in HD, plus deleted scenes. if you think you’re only going to make a few videos, i’d start with scene packs. you can usually just google “destiel [or whatever ship/character you’re looking for] scene packs” and there will be any number of ones you can download. if you need other specific scenes, you can always download/torrent individual episodes or screen record netflix (that’s what i did before i got HD download links). i’m happy to share my links if you DM, but be warned it’s a lot of disk space (about 500GB on my hard drive). someone also compiled every destiel scene, downloadable here.

having every episode already loaded in premiere for all my projects also makes it a lot easier to source clips. once i use a clip in a video, i’ll put a marker on the episode file, so that after a while i have most of the important scenes/lines marked to easily find them. to give you an idea, this is my episode file in premiere for 12x10 lily sunder has some regrets (markers at destiel scenes, the car fight, hot girl cas, etc.). markers are the green tabs along the bottom:

premiere also lets you color code and name markers, so ONE DAY i will go back and color code them all. the ones above are all the same color, but in a perfect world, i’d have a myraid—for destiel shots like hugs, touches, looks; for important pieces of dialogue; for action shots; etc. but for now this works ok for me, so that’s a project for another time!

between detailed scripts, one giant premiere project, markers, the wiki, and my own memory, i have so many points of reference that i can usually find any clip i need in about 2 minutes max. sound bites are often harder to start out, or tiny specific shots i haven’t used before, and that’s when i turn to tumblr gifsets or beloved mutuals to crowdsource. but if you’re as obsessive about marking/keeping neat scripts as i am, it gets easier and easier with every video you make. that’s part of why i’m able to cut videos together so quickly. (also i want to stress i do this for a living and have to produce/edit a new piece for my show every day so i’m used to it. and compared to constantly updating content/sources and news that changes every day, 327 highly documented episodes that never change are much easier to handle hahaha)

this is all great for me since i make so many videos and plan to continue doing so, but if you’re only making a few, this level of work isn’t worth it imo. really it’s all about developing a system that works for you. whatever you do with episodes/sourcing, though, i cannot recommend planning things out in a script ahead of time enough.

everything i just mentioned is producing, though. for the editing process, i usually do it in this order:

music first. any parts i want to cut, i make sure it all sounds smooth

then soundbites. i usually try to weave them into the lyrics—i have characters talk in breaks between lines or instrumental sections as much as possible. i’ll sometimes go so far as looped/extending an intsrumental part to make room for the soundbite i want there lol. if i do have dialogue over a line, i do the sound mixing/levels at this point as well to make sure everything is audible/one doesn’t overpower the other. (also i always include the video that goes with these bites when i drop them in, and decide later if i want to show the character speaking or have other clips cover the dialogue)

once i have all the audio locked in, then i bring in all my other video clips. sometimes i edit completely chronologically, sometimes jumping from section to section—it depends on the song or how i’m feeling

double check sound mixing. i usually listen to my videos through a few times, with headphones and without to make sure it’ll sound good no matter how people watch it

once i have picture and audio lock, i go through and color correct my clips. i’m basic and just use lumetri color in premiere, and usually just play with brightness, saturation, temperature, and tint until i like it

render and export! :)

i always have several audio tracks, but i try to keep my video tracks condensed. i’ll drop clips on a V2 level, and edit a section there, and drop the whole chunk down to V1 so i know it’s finished. that way when i leave and come back i can know where i left off/what’s done/etc. to give you an idea, this is the timeline for my what the hell video:

i always render as H.264 with high bitrate, and make sure to check “render at maximum depth” and “use maximum render quality” for the best quality. i’m sorry, but i don’t know what the equivalent options are in final cut, imovie, kdenlive, etc. i post on youtube mostly so i don’t have to sacrifice quality, but usually just using a lower bitrate will get you under the tumblr file size limit and it’ll still look good.

as for the anon who asked about “polishing”: first of all, thank you!! second of all, it’s in the details. all of this is a matter of taste and my own insanity, but here are some little things i always try to do:

after i color correct, i blur out any credits from the starts of episodes. i use gaussian blur for this, but really any blur tool works

as much as possible, i avoid clips where we see a character’s mouth move but don’t hear the words. in tv/film we call it “lip flap” and i just think it looks messy. also i’m trained to avoid it at all costs at work hahaha. it’s more for serious videos that this matters a lot to me (e.g. i think i did a really good job eliminating lip flap in my happy ending amv)—for comedy videos i don’t sweat it as much

i put audio fades on the start and end of every single audio clip i use, even if i don’t think i need it, to make sure everything sounds smooth

i use markers for timing, especially in action-y videos like what the hell. i’ll put a marker on the clip i’m using at the exact moment a punch lands, and in the song on the beat. if i have the magnet/snap in timeline tool on i can just easily snap them together instead of having to spend time finagling it

this is such a small thing but i dip/cut to black for a tiny bit at the start and end of every video. this way if i post with tumblr video player, there’s black between the loops, and it gives you a beat before the video restarts. i do this even on videos i post on youtube, just because i think it looks nicer/more professional

this is 1,500 words so i’m going to stop myself before i pull something. if you have follow-up questions feel free to ask and i’ll continue to add them to the vid help tag, but any more questions about sourcing clips or my process in general i’ll just link this post going forward. anyone who made it this far, i am sending to a telepathic kiss. thank you for reading and happy editing!

#i typed this all up at 4am so i'm just scheduling it to post sometime today #ask #vid help

75 notes · View notes

spine-buster · 4 years

Text

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 8

November 10th, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was in her hotel room.

The Leafs had lost to Chicago. Chicago scored four goals in the first period. It was a shitshow. And although the boys rallied back late in the third period, they just couldn’t get that fifth goal to send it into overtime and at least get a point. William scored two goals – en route to a hat trick – but didn’t get it. He did get third star of the game though. Aberdeen knew he was trying to impress his parents and show off in front of his brother.

The team was spending the night in Chicago before leaving late tomorrow for Long Island, meaning that Aberdeen had the day off and could actually go and explore. She’d never been, and she knew eight or ten hours was not nearly enough to really explore a city, but she thought about taking a city bus tour that hit all the major sites. Truthfully, she was learning more towards just spending the entire day at the Art Institute of Chicago. It was on her bucket list.

After the stress of travelling and the back to back games, she was tired. She’d taken a long, hot shower before putting on her pajamas and slipping into the hotel bathrobe. With her hair wrapped in a towel, she ripped open a sheet mask and put it on, massaging it onto her face. She texted Kasha, who sent her some pictures and videos of Minerva sleeping on her bed, which calmed her down but also made her wish she was curled up with her cat. Eventually, Aberdeen lay upright in bed, trying to get some reading of Women Talking by Miriam Toews done before she fell asleep.

But then there was a light knock at her door.

She was so tired and so annoyed and so engrossed in her book that she didn’t even bother to look through the peephole to see who it was. She forgot she was in her pajamas and bathrobe. She forgot she had an entire sheet mask on her face that made her look like Jason. She just opened the door, not thinking about anything.

Which made seeing William on the other side of the door all the more frightening.

He had quite the amused look on his face. “Hey.”

She shut the door in his face. She turned around so her back was against the door, internally freaking out, looking around for a means of escape. She seriously contemplated jumping out the window. It was only eight floors – that didn’t mean too many broken bones, right? She could…she could…

“Open the door, Aberdeen,” she could hear him from the other side, his voice low but loud enough that only she could hear.

“No,” she said, having the wherewithal to finally rip the sheet mask off her face and shove it into the pocket of the robe. It was still wet, damn it. A sheet mask wasted.

“Come on, Aberdeen.”

“What are you even doing here?” she asked.

“Would you rather Brendan find me outside your hotel room or would you rather hide me in the shower where he wouldn’t see me?” William asked rhetorically.

Aberdeen’s heart and her mind started racing, thinking that Brendan was on the way down to her room or down the hallway or something. She rushed to open the door and stuck her head out, looking down both ends of the hallway. William, for his part, slipped past her and into her room. “Is he here?!” she asked in a harsh whisper.

“God no. Brendan’s asleep,” William said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s eleven at night, Aberdeen. The man needs his rest.”

She looked back at him practically sauntering into her hotel room and shut the door, locking it behind her for full effect. She crossed her arms to make herself appear angry. William still had an amused smile on his face. “I reiterate my question – what are you even doing here?”

“Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“Weren’t you going to dinner with your parents and Alex?”

“That’s done.”

“So, like, don’t you want to spend time with your parents?”

“They have an early morning flight to catch to Dallas to visit Jackie at SMU,” he said. “They went back to their hotel and went to bed.”

“And shouldn’t you be doing the same thing?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Cause I wanted to see you, minskatt.”

A blush overcame her cheeks. “Will, this is really inappropriate,” she said, trying to mask it.

“Why?”

“You’re a hockey player in my hotel room,” she felt like she had to spell everything out for him. “If Brendan finds out he’d freak. If Kyle or Peter found out, they’d freak. Hell, if your teammates found out—”

“Even if they did, they wouldn’t say anything,” William interrupted her.

She stopped dead in her tracks. That was not plausible. Any single one of them would go to Brendan in a second if she and Will were caught together like this. In her hotel room. At night. Alone. “I have a hard time believing that.”

“They wouldn’t. They know that I like you, so they wouldn’t.”

Aberdeen couldn’t respond with anything because she could think of anything to say. He flummoxed her constantly. He kept rendering her speechless and she didn’t know what to do about it – didn’t know if she could do anything about it. She watched as he leaned against the TV stand, crossing his own arms over his chest. “I’m asking for a third time now – what are you doing here?”

“Was that a sheet mask you had on your face before?”

“Yes.”

“For what?”

She gave him major side eye. “Moisturizing. The traveling is drying out my skin.”

Will let out a slight chuckle. He looked past her towards her bed, and she followed his eyes and looked behind her. “What book are you reading?”

Was he being serious right now? Had he seriously made his way into her room to ask her about sheet masks and books? Not like she’d do anything else with him. But still. “Women Talking by Miriam Toews.”

“Do women talk in it?”

She audibly scoffed. “It’s about sexual assault in a Mennonite community.”

Will’s face dropped. “Oh fuck.”

Aberdeen couldn’t help but snort as she saw the look on his face. She tried to cover her mouth and her smile but the attempt was futile. He looked so embarrassed and it just brought her so much…well, delight. “God, Will,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back to grab the book. “You are something else.”

“You like to read, then?” he tried to recover the conversation.

“I have a major in English, Will. And I want to become a writer. You can’t become a writer if you don’t read. Well I mean, you can, but you won’t be very good. And beyond that, I’ve made it my goal to read the shortlist of the Governor General Awards and the Giller Prize,” she said. She saw a slightly confused look on Will’s face. “They’re Canada’s highest literary awards. They’re like – well, not really, but you’re Swedish, so – it’s like being a Nobel Laureate, but obviously the Nobel is much more prestigious. I read them too.”

The smile that appeared on his face was so innocent and pure that she wanted to wipe it off his face. She couldn’t handle it. “I remember that you want to be a writer. You told me the first time we met,” he said. Aberdeen shivered. “So what are you doing here with the Leafs?”

“In my quest for any type of job, they were the only ones that called,” she informed him. “No newspapers or magazines came calling, so it was this or bank telling.”

He pushed himself off the TV console, making his way over to sit beside her on the edge of the bed. He looked over at her. “I think you’d make a great writer.”

“Thanks, but you haven’t read any of my writing.”

“Can I?”

“No.”

It was Will’s turn to snort. “Fair enough. Maybe I’ll get to read it one day.”

“I don’t know about that,” she said, smiling down at the book as she held it between her hands, being very careful not to lose the page. “How was dinner with your parents?” she pivoted, not wanting to talk about herself or her writing anymore. “I bet you miss them a lot.”

William shrugged his shoulders. “I’m kind of used to it. When I was a kid my dad would be gone a lot.”

Aberdeen thought the worst. “Why?”

William looked at her weirdly. “My dad was an NHL player, Aberdeen.” He saw the shock on her face and couldn’t help but chuckle. “Do you not, like, google these things?”

“Why would I google your dad? I thought he was just…I don’t know, your dad!” she tried to defend herself.

“Well, he is just my dad—”

“But he was an NHL player,” she said. “What team did he play for?”

“A bunch. He was a journeyman. Alex and I were actually born in Calgary, but then it was Tampa, Chicago, Washington, Boston, New York…then back to Washington,” William listed off the cities he’d lived in. “It was a lot of moving around. A lot of back and forth. A lot of missing dad.”

Aberdeen could never imagine moving around that much as a kid. She was very fortunate to have lived in the same house her entire life, however old and small it was. She knew William’s life growing up was probably very nice – much nicer than hers, in the sense that he had a lot more money with his dad being an NHL player and all – but all of that couldn’t make up for missing your dad because you couldn’t actually see your dad. The first time Aberdeen realized she actually missed her parents was the grade nine orientation retreat her school ran, when she went to a camp in Muskoka for three days and two nights and got eaten alive by mosquitos. She couldn’t imagine that feeling happening over and over again. And not just over and over again…but throughout her entire childhood. “But Sweden is always home?” she asked, trying to brighten up the mood.

“Always,” he replied automatically, resolute in his tone. “In the summers, when we’d be all together in Sweden, and it was just…you know, family time…that was the best. Our house in Stockholm, or our house in the countryside…it was always amazing.”

Aberdeen smiled at him. He was so clearly fond of Sweden and fond of his family. If their Halloween talk didn’t secure it enough, this did. She wondered how much he missed his siblings on a regular basis; how geographically, they were so far away from each other, but in every other way they were so close. Much like she and Siena. She missed Siena every day.

“Hey Aberdeen?” Will’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“You haven’t kicked me out yet.”

She gave him a look. He started chuckling at her scrunched up face, still glowing with moisturizer. “Don’t push it.”

***

November 13th 2019

Aberdeen felt both mentally and physically exhausted as the charter plane landed in Toronto just before midnight. The Leafs suffered another loss to the New York Islanders, John’s old team (who booed him every time he touched the puck, the savages), even though they battled back again from a goal deficit. Will scored. John scored too. But it wasn’t enough. Now, the team was officially on a three game losing streak (okay, technically only two if you didn’t count the shootout loss against Philly). Aberdeen was just…tired. She had the day off tomorrow to prepare for the Major Donor Dinner that night, worked Friday, and then – surprisingly – a full weekend off, since Brendan wasn’t traveling to Pittsburgh.

To says she was looking forward to it was an understatement.

“Who’s driving Aberdeen home?” John asked out loud as he always did when they came back from road trips late at night. She didn’t know if he’d taken it upon himself as the team captain to spearhead the movement, but she didn’t oppose it anymore. If they wanted to be chivalrous, she wasn’t going to stop them.

She usually rode into the city with Morgan, with Bee picking them up. Twice she’d gotten driven back into the city with Saylor and Kasperi. She was fully ready to hear Morgan’s voice pipe up like it always did – especially because Bee was always on time and already waiting for them by the time they landed. She even saw him about to say it, but he was cut off. “I’ve got it,” Will said immediately, not even looking at her. Morgan looked back at him, shrugging his shoulders. That was that.

Aberdeen noticed he drove a Volvo – of course he would, the Swede. She put her carry-on in the trunk and slipped into the passenger seat, waving goodbye at Justin Holl who had parked beside Will and was already backing out of his space. Will slipped into the driver’s seat, starting the car. He looked over at her, the smallest smile on his face. “Hey.”

“Hello.”

“You tired?” he asked.

“I’m exhausted.”

“Good,” he said, backing out of the parking spot, making his way out and onto the street.

“Good?”

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for a while,” he said, a smile on his face.

She side-eyed him. What exactly did he think they were going to get up to in his car of all places? She was wide awake now. “Why?”

“You always have your headphones in on the bus or plane when Brendan doesn’t need you.”

“So?”

“So it’s obvious you like music, and I’ve curated a playlist for this exact moment,” he smiled, fiddling around with his phone. He really shouldn’t have been doing that, since he was driving and it was illegal to do so. Aberdeen looked as he swiped through Spotify quickly, obviously knowing exactly where he needed to go.

“What moment is that?” she asked.

“Driving through Toronto at night,” he said, stopping at the red light. She chuckled slightly to herself, leaning her head back on the headrest and looking out her window. Of all the guys on the team, only Will would do something like this. Bee never made any playlists for driving Morgan home in the middle of the night. Hell, Saylor didn’t either. She was more preoccupied with telling Kasperi the exact details of what she’d been up to while he was gone, or telling him where they were going to go for drinks and oysters after they dropped Aberdeen off. “You ready?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“If you put on Drake to drive through Toronto at night, Will, I swear to God…” she warned.

There was a dramatic pause. The opening notes of Drake’s ‘Passionfruit’ played. Aberdeen overexaggerated her scoff and disgusted face, and William’s infamous laugh was so loud it could be heard over the music. “God, William…” she chastised playfully.

“Oh come on! It’s a good song!” he tried to defend himself.

“It’s one of his better songs, sure. I’ll give you that,” she said. “But what a lousy start.”

Will’s jaw dropped. “Oh, really? You can think of something better?”

“I can think of a million different songs that are better,” she quipped. She looked down at his phone sitting in the little cubby and went to grab it. She scrolled through the list, getting more and more disgusted by the songs and artists he’d added to the playlist. “Your taste in music is awful,” she scoffed again.

“HEY!”

“It’s true!”

“Okay Miss Superior Music Taste—”

“Okay, first of all, if you’re going to choose a Toronto artist to start a ‘driving though Toronto at night’ playlist, it should be The Weeknd,” she began, typing his name into the screen and swiping to add ‘Starboy’ and ‘I Feel It Coming’ to the playlist. “Like, where is Tory Lanez? Where’s Daniel Caesar? And why is it all rappers? This is so stereotypical. You need better music.”

“It doesn’t just have to be people from Toronto,” he said, making a turn. “And it’s all rappers because I li—”

“Seriously, this is awful.”

“You’re really mean when you’re exhausted,” he quipped.

“If it doesn’t have to be just full of people from Toronto then I’m hijacking this playlist and making it good,” she ignored his comment, already swiping her fingers all over his screen and typing in name after name.

Will would glance over occasionally, trying to keep his eyes on the road but finding it hard. She looked so cute concentrating so hard as Passionfruit played in the background. He bit his lip, trying to remain composed. “God, you’re gutting that thing,” he said.

“That’s how bad it is.”

He shook his head playfully. “You better hurry up. Passionfruit’s almost over.” Aberdeen finished off, keeping his phone in her lap as she let Passionfruit end. “It better be good,” he said.

She shot him a playful glare. “It’s awesome, thank you very much.”

As ‘Passionfruit’ ended, ‘Bride’ by San Fermin came on. Aberdeen was immediately pulled into the sounds and beats, closing her eyes and let it wash over her. William, on the other hand, furrowed his brows. “What is this?”

“San Fermin.”

“Who?”

She shot him another glare – how many she’d shot him in this car ride alone, she couldn’t even say. “Can you just listen?”

William gave it about a minute before he began shaking his head again. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

“You’re weak.”

“Put on something good this time,” he said as she picked up the phone again. He switched lanes to get onto the onramp for the Gardiner Expressway. He saw Aberdeen scrolling through the playlist, finally picking a song. ‘Green Light’ by Lorde. “Lorde? Really?”

“Don’t you dare say a bad word about Lorde,” she warned. “She’s perfect. Her music is perfect.”

“You think so?”

“She wrote Pure Heroine at sixteen. Sixteen!” she exclaimed. “I would give my left arm to have written like that at sixteen. I was writing awful, pretentious poetry about stupid boys in my high school at sixteen. And she wrote that entire album!”

William laughed, her clear enthusiasm and love of Lorde shining through in her words. It was adorable. She was adorable. She was many things, but right now, she was adorable. “Is she your favourite?” he asked.

“I have a lot of favourites,” Aberdeen admitted. “But yeah. She’s up there. Do you not listen to her?”

William shrugged his shoulders. “I know Royals. That was the big one, right? That’s basically it.”

“Well, you need to listen more.”

“Not the first time someone’s told me that,” he joked, keeping his eyes focused on the road.

Aberdeen bit her lip. She knew they were in the context of talking about music and her favourite artists, but that was a loaded sentence. When she and Brendan made their way to the locker room after the Islanders game, she could hear Mike Babcock’s voice from down the hallway. She’d watched and listened to some of his post-game interviews, and she wasn’t completely ignorant to the fact that he constantly, constantly, backhand complimented William and his skills. It didn’t matter if William got an assist, got one goal, even two goals – it was like Mike couldn’t say a good word about Will without undermining him somehow. She remembered the season opener, when William told her “I’m used to it” when she asked about it. She shifted uncomfortably in the passenger’s seat. “Will…”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, minskatt.”

She paused to try to collect herself. “What, like…I mean, I don’t mean to be nosey or whatever, or intrude…but what – I mean…like what kind of like—”

“Spit it out, Aberdeen.”

“What’s the issue between you and Mike Babcock?” she finally asked.

Will looked over at her quickly, shocked that she’d asked the question. “Hell if I knew,” he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders. That was a lie – he did know part of it. At least, he thought he knew part of it. “I don’t…I…okay. Last year,” he began, “the 2018-2019 season. It was my contract negotiation year. I went unsigned throughout the summer because I was holding out for a specific number and a long-term deal instead of what we call a ‘bridge’, so like a two or three year deal. I…I didn’t want to be anywhere else but Toronto, no matter what anyone else said. I still don’t want to be anywhere else but Toronto,” he explained. “And so, because of that holdout, I didn’t attend training camp. I didn’t play basically for the beginning half of the season. There…there was a lot of drama. A lot of rumours in the Toronto media – really nasty rumours, some of them. A bunch of talk about trading me. It produced this really…I don’t know, this really toxic, like, cloud surrounding me. A lot of people were angry about it. But I got my deal – I signed on December 1st, the last day legally possible to be able to play.”

Aberdeen thought back to what he told her about his dad. How much Will missed him as a kid growing up because Michael would be travelling for hockey. How much Michael was gone all the time. How every few years, the family would have to pack up and move to a completely different city, in a completely different part of the country, following Michael on his journeyman hockey career. Of course William wanted a long term deal. It was no wonder. He didn’t want to experience what he had to experience growing up – being shuffled around the league – now as an adult.

“The media did their job though,” he continued, breaking her train of thought. “They were relentless. Malicious. They turned a lot of people against me – a lot of fans who were influenced into thinking I was a spoiled Swedish brat. Overhyped, overpaid, waste of money. A plug. Getting in the way of hiring a good Canadian boy, forgetting the fact that I was born in Calgary,” he almost smiled to himself, shaking his head. “So…I don’t know. I guess Mike didn’t get over my holdout. Maybe he feels bitter about it. Maybe he thinks I’m selfish, that I shouldn’t have held out. Maybe he thinks I’m an overhyped, overpaid plug taking a spot from a good Canadian enforcer or something. But it’s all hypothetical. It’s all maybes. I can’t tell you why, exactly, he always says those things.”

Aberdeen didn’t know any of this. She didn’t know William held out on his contract. She didn’t know there was a portion of the city that hated just him specifically. She didn’t know about bridge deals, long term deals, and about him wanting to be in Toronto – nowhere else. She didn’t know any of it. And that’s when she finally realized: that was her exact problem. This was why she kept making careless comments that made Brendan so upset. She didn’t know anything about the team; she didn’t know anything about its members, how they got to Toronto, how they liked being here. She didn’t know the history and barely took time to learn.

“You need to walk into this building everyday knowing and understanding the history of this hockey club beyond just the surface level and what Brendan tells you,” Kyle told her after she went crying to him like a baby. “But you already know what to do, Aberdeen. You just need to find it within yourself and do it.”

She needed to understand the team as an institution, but also as a group of guys creating and carrying on the legacy of that institution.

Now she knew.

“That’s awful,” she said, considering everything he told her. She couldn’t believe a coach would hold something like that against a player. “You…you don’t deserve that, Will. Any of it.”

“I know,” he said, nodding his head slightly. “You don’t have to tell me that, minskatt. Mike’s just…listen, he’s a good coach – a great coach. I mean, he’s won two gold medals. And he has a very specific system—”

“William,” she interrupted him. He looked over at her. “Don’t make excuses.”

He smiled at her – a true, genuine smile. And as he did, the opening notes of ‘Style’ by Taylor Swift began to play, and a shiver ran up Aberdeen’s spine. She had to look away – had to – because if she looked any longer at him, she would spontaneously self-combust. That, or lean over the centre console and do something she would immediately regret. As she looked out the front, she saw them approaching downtown – all the lights and the skyscrapers illuminating the city, and the CN Tower lit up brightly in red. “This is my favourite drive,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“This is my favourite drive,” she repeated, speaking up. “This…the Gardiner going into the city. Swerving through all the buildings. All the lights. And this song is perfect for it. Absolutely fucking perfect.”

William continued to smile at her, looking between her and the road as ‘Style’ continued to play. The riff, the beat…everything was perfect. She was busy focused on the view, and on the beat of the song, singing it lightly to herself, her voice getting above the volume of the song only minimally. She even took out her own phone and began recording the drive and the lights, no doubt to post on Instagram later. She looked perfect. She was perfect, at least to him. He needed to utilize every ounce of self-control he had in him as he continued to watch her. “This is really hard,” he said out loud, breaking somewhat.

“What? Listening to Taylor Swift?”

He laughed. “No. All I really want to do is reach across the dash and hold your hand but I know I can’t.”

She blushed, looking down at her hands instead of looking at him. She always had a few rings on – a few dainty ones, stacked, and one her mom gave her that once belonged to her grandmother – and she began playing with them nervously. He signalled to get off at the appropriate exit. “Will…”

“I know, I know,” he said. He was biting his lip down, hard, probably to stop him from saying or doing anything else. “I’m sorry.”

The rest of their ride was silent, since it wasn’t much longer until he reached her condo. When they finally arrived, she made sure he knew he didn’t have to get out of the car when he popped the trunk for her to get her carry-on. She rolled it back to the passenger window. “Thanks for the ride Will,” she smiled.

“Will I see you at the dinner tomorrow?” Will asked out the window, leaning over the centre console.

She paused for a second. He knew about that? She thought it was an office personnel only event. “You’re going?”

“Of course I am,” he smiled.

She rolled her eyes. “Of course you are.”

“Brendan likes to shuffle some of us out as a surprise for the donors. It’ll be me, John, Jason, and Mitch,” he explained quickly. “So I’ll see you there?”

“Yes. You’ll see me there.”

#william nylander #william nylander imagine #william nylander fic #william nylander fan fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #toronto maple leafs fan fic #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fan fic #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey fic #hockey fan fic #the president wears prada series

181 notes · View notes

ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 5 years

Text

Promises Not Kept *Tommy Shelby*

Summary: Tommy Shelby made a promise to Jonah Ward while in the war. A promise he didn't keep. But it comes to haunt him when he tries to drown out his sorrows with a young woman.

Fic warnings: Prostitution, violence, swearing, pretty much everything to do with Peaky Blinders

The youngest girl, Bessie, a petite redhead was the first with the news. She came scampering into the shared room where the girls would freshen up between clients. Late, as usual, she had a wild look in her eyes.

“Tha’s Thomas Shelby in the lobby.” She gasped out and clutched at her coat. Stray snowflakes melted in her fiery hair. “He’s back.”

The rest of the girls were stirred up into a frenzy at the news.

“Again?”

“He’s already had me ‘fore, might be comin’ back for me.”

“Fuckin’ pays well don’t he?”

Bea, the eldest and most experienced out of the bunch blew out a drag of smoke. “’Course he does. The Shelbys own Birmingham and that means they’re fuckin’ dangerous.’ She glared at the hopeful eyed girls. “None of you should be makin’ ties with that lot. Best to stay unseen.”

“Still, he’ll be wantin’ a fuck.” Teresa shrugged and eyed herself in the mirror as she applied lipstick. "I ain't gonna turn him or his money down."

“Don’t you worry,” Bea turned to the young woman on her left. “He doesn’t pick blonde girls.”

Leah chewed on her lower lip and glanced at the vanity mirror next to her. Indeed, she had honey-colored hair, which usually did her well in her line of business.

Leah was twenty-five, a prime age for a London prostitute. Not too green but not worn out either. She found herself prostituting after a long drawn out mess of increasingly worse luck. Since 1918, she had been stuck in a downward spiral.

It could always be worse, that’s what she reminded herself every time she woke up. She wasn’t starving on the streets but she did feel like a piece of her died every single time she closed her eyes.

“Leah?” Billy stuck his head into the room. He was a good man, a hotel employee who was paid extra to introduce clients to the girls. The madam handled the rest of the transactions. But it was a classier transaction up front. The hotel provided a luxurious setting for the wealthy clientele who sought out the harem of girls. Women who were touted as much more than those of seedy whorehouses, although that’s where they all originated. The illusion that the ten women were hand-picked goddesses, submissive in nature (unless a man preferred the roles reversed).

Respectful. Discreet. Beautiful. Expensive.

For Leah, the titillating façade wore off fast. She was still a whore. Men faked their love and affection or they didn’t even bother. Despite the money, Leah always felt used. Yet she blamed herself. The naïve daughter of a chemist. Now just a whore.

“Mr. Shelby’s requested someone new,” Billy informed her.

The other girls went quiet for a moment. Teresa looked irked. “She’s the only one he hasn’t fucked yet?”

Billy, a quiet man, who looked out for the girls well being, nodded in confirmation.

“He doesn’t like blondes.” Bea retorted protectively. “He hardly even looked at Rose. Send Teresa out.”

Leah’s face went ashen. The Shelbys were not people she wanted to be involved with.

“He insisted.”

She swallowed and stood. “S’okay, Bea.” She faked a smile and touched the older woman’s arm. “How’d I look?”

“Perfect.” Bea nodded but looked visibly worried.

The other girls watched as Leah stood, tightening the ties around her peach-colored dressing gown. She followed Billy down the hall to one of the nicer suites.

“He’s inside.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Billy.” Her voice was quiet as she stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. Nerves rattled her bones. The Shelby name was not one to be taken lightly. Leah remembered hearing about them when she worked in a brothel a couple of years back.

Crazy gypsy bastards.

Fucking animals.

Bloodthirsty.

Harsh words that she’d never heard when describing an entire family. But perhaps they weren’t wrong because the Shelbys only became more and more powerful. They were a force to be reckoned with, especially if you resided in Britain’s underworld. Leah did and had for some time. But she had her limits.

“Right, f’ya got heels on, you can take ‘em off.” Tommy was standing by the window, his back to Leah. A half-finished cigarette clenched between his lips. A thin haze of smoke already hung over the room.

Swallowing, Leah reached down to remove the heels from her feet. She was so focused on the straps she didn’t notice he’d turned around. When she set the shoes aside, she straightened up and came face-to-face with the most dangerous man in Birmingham.

His eyes were like the coldest winter, much worse than the blustery December evening outside the hotel. He was thin, average height, and sculpted with sharp edges. Everything from his dark hair to his clean-shaven face was pristine. His three-piece-suit wasn’t an uncommon sight for clients but he just seemed more refined. It masked his deeds but intimidation remained.

He was beautiful there was no denying that. But he had several, if not dozens, of ghosts haunting him. Hanging over his shoulder. Never letting him forget. His hardened stare was hypnotizing but fear-inducing all the while.

“You’re blonde.” His voice was quiet, deep, like thunder in the far distance.

Leah didn’t know how to respond. She only nodded. “Yes, Mr. Shelby.”

He stared at her for a moment. It was nearly unbearable being under the scrutiny of the calculating man. He drew the cigarette from his mouth and parted his lips slightly to release thin wisps of smoke. “Right,” It appeared he’d made up his mind. He shrugged his coat off and tossed it to the side. He averted his gaze from her and began removing the small bits and trappings of a wealthy man. Cufflinks, arm garter, pocket-watch, and finally his glasses.

Leah was frozen in her spot. Typically, she was outgoing when it came to clients. The more special she made them feel, the more they would pay. But Tommy’s presence was terrifying.

His eyes flicked up to her in slight annoyance when she didn’t move a muscle. He cleared his throat and made a curt gesture towards the bed, prompting her to move.

As if a spell had been lifted, Leah began to untie the dressing gown and let it slip off her shoulders to the floor. The reaction she got confirmed what Tommy was there for. A good prostitute could get a sense of why the man was there. Despite his cold manner, he was easy to read. He hardly even glanced up when she cast her robe to the side and walked to the bed clad in lingerie. His indifference said a lot. Tommy was there to deal with an itch, perhaps to further drown out some sorrows. What he was grieving was unknown.

He put out his cigarette and removed his waistcoat and shirt, still avoiding looking at the woman he was paying for.

Leah reclined back against the plush pillows. Her eyes kept catching glances of him as he undressed. She knew she needed to keep her head down, not attract any attention from him. But he had such a presence it was hard to look away.

Tommy handled the situation like anything else in his life. It was a business transaction, nothing more. He moved with such grace and certainty. His thin frame was a far cry from the brutal gangster that people labeled him as. But Leah could see the muscles flexing in his arms and chest when he got on top of her.

“You’re a quiet one, eh?” He broke the silence again. One hand braced himself against the bed, the other slipped between them. His long fingers grazed down her stomach, catching the bits of lace of her lingerie.

Leah looked up at him, studying his face once he was closer. He certainly looked years younger without his glasses, but there was exhaustion to his features. It seemed like he’d gone days without more than a few hours of sleep. A small nick of a scar marked his cheek. His eyes were, even more, alarming the closer he was. But his touch was surprisingly gentle at the onset.

“Do you like having conversations with girls like me?” Leah asked quietly, wondering if she should speak more to him. She’d been a little too busy taking in his form.

He shook his head and a hint of amusement crossed his eyes. “Try to have some decency, don’t I? M’not a monster.”

She was quick to correct herself. “'Course not, Mr. Shelby.”

“Call me Tommy.”

Something struck Leah like a brick to the head. Tommy. Tommy Shelby. She could see the name written in her husband’s handwriting.

Tommy Shelby, and his brothers, they act as though death is an old friend of theirs. None of them are scared to go to hell. Nice blokes but there’s something about them.

Leah’s sudden realization was cut short when she felt Tommy’s finger brush over her sex. Startled out of her thoughts, she let out a hitched moan and let her eyes slide closed. He was no stranger to a woman’s body that was clear just after half a second of him touching her. It wasn’t often she was really turned on by a client. Most were inexperienced, too worried about their own pleasure, or downright awful at pleasure.

But not Tommy Shelby. He had her breathless before he even entered her. When he did, Leah had to ground herself before she became too intoxicated off him. Her arms looped around his neck, her fingers clutching for purchase in his hair.

He grunted softly when she knotted her fingers in his dark locks. His head dipped down as his hips snapped forward. He moved with ferocity, chasing something beyond release. There was something he needed but it was something a whore could give him. Yet he pressed on.

Leah was unraveling at the seam. His vigor was pushing away the thoughts that had clouded her brain before. He brought her somewhere she’d long missed. An electric and primal connection.

“Tommy…” She breathed out.

And when he opened his eyes, Tommy felt the spark too. He didn’t see Grace, despite Leah’s blonde hair and vague likeness. There was something about the woman beneath him that rendered him breathless and devoid of all other thoughts. His grief. His anxiety. His anger. It was numbed. He could only feel her body and the warmth of her figure.

Overwhelmed with the sensation, his thrusts stuttered and he stared at her. Disbelief and lust made his pupils blow, thinning out the icy blue.

Leah let her hand slip to his cheek. Her lips parted like she wanted to say something but had lost all ability of speech. To solve the problem, he ducked down and kissed her. He pressed so hard into it that her lips were certain to bruise.

Seldom did she allow a client to kiss her. And if she did, it was for more money or to maybe make a young eighteen-year-old feel special on his birthday. But Tommy wiped her brain, made her forget who she truly was, and made her long for the days she had a man to kiss her. Grateful and drunk on the feeling, she kissed him back.

Nothing at that moment could pull them apart. Tommy only released her lips to hear her as she climaxed. Hearing her gasp out his name pushed him over the edge.

He groaned and let the feeling wash over him like a deadly cocktail of drugs and alcohol. He felt alive but cured of all the aches and pain held in his bones. He shuddered out a breath and the ringing in his ears faded. Awareness of the room returned.

Leah was clinging to him, still riding the waves of a release she had yet to find in years. Tommy let her hold onto him until her arms relaxed and her body unlocked.

Her hazel eyes met his face but both were too stunned to speak. Finally, Tommy sat up and reached for a cigarette. He offered one to Leah who took one out of courtesy.

They sat in silence for a moment. Smoke rising to the ceiling. Neither expected to find such a strong emotion in that room. It was scary for both of them and they didn’t know what to make of it.

“Should I leave you?” Leah finally spoke.

He swallowed hard and shook his head. “No. Not yet.” He replied quietly. There was a danger lurking. The danger of blindly falling for lust. Doing anything to fill the hole where his heart used to be. But he wasn’t about to release the feeling quite yet. He had a meeting in two hours. He was going to make use of that time. Fuck it, he’d be late.

Tommy flicked his cigarette into the ashtray on the nightstand. He reached over and Leah let him take hers as well. Replacing the cigarette with his hand. His slender fingers lacing in with hers as he kissed her deeply. His eyes closed and he welcomed the feeling. Taking the drug and following the high blindly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tommy had her for hours. Leah returned to the room in quite a state. Her hair was undone and tangled. Her lipstick was smudged to hell and Tommy had ripped her lingerie in the passion.

When she returned, the girls all stared at her like she’d been gone for weeks. Bea stood and hurried over to her. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” She asked in a hushed voice.

Still in a daze, Leah shook her head. “No.” She sat down and started to freshen up. Her movements were slow and delayed. She was still too caught up in the overwhelming sensations. Three hours was not enough, she craved more.

“Leah?” Bea sat next to her.

“Hm?”

“I asked if you were okay.” The older woman looked concerned. “You seem…off.”

“I’m fine, Bea.” Leah smiled. “Perfectly fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, Tommy and Leah coped with the chance interaction. Leah returned to her rented room early in the morning and knelt by her bed. Beneath, in an old shoebox, she kept her husband’s letters. His shirt and those letters were the only things she had left of him. Losing him to the war sparked her downward spiral. She lost her best friend and the love of her life.

It was always difficult to read his letters. She intentionally tried to put it from her mind. When she read his words and saw his name signed, she was reminded of what she once had.

She thumbed through the parchment and finally found one of the several mentions of the Shelbys.

Tommy Shelby, he and his family live in Birmingham. If anything were to happen to me, I think they would be able to take care of you. They’re rough around the edges but they care for their own. I’m just afraid of leaving you alone.

Leah sat on the hardwood floor for a long while. She held the paper tightly. Her husband had known Tommy. The man she had just slept with. Overrun with guilt and confusion, the young woman curled up on the floor. She held the letter close to her chest and let herself cry. What kind of person was she? When had the world become too much to bear? Would she ever find the happiness she once had?

~~~~~~~~~

Tommy stood in the foyer long past midnight. Drunk on gin and then whiskey, he’d stumbled out of his office. Arrow House was silent in the dead of night. The large rooms offered no comfort.

Moonlight filtered in through the large windows and settled on the portrait of himself, Grace, and Charlie.

“Fuck…” He cursed under his breath as he singed the tips of his fingers on his cigarette. He dropped it and clumsily stubbed it out with his heel into the carpet.

His eyes looked up to Grace’s painted face. His heart wrenched and he found himself back where he’d begun that morning. Hindsight told him he was a fool for thinking something with a whore would be real. The only real thing he had was gone. He didn’t have her anymore and he never would again.

Tommy’s face scrunched up, the pain still seeping in despite the copious amounts of alcohol. He’d have to poison himself with gin to be fully numb. It was times like that night when he wondered if he should embrace the devil.

“Daddy?”

Probably the only reason he ignored the demons telling him to give up, called out to him.

Tommy raised his head and saw Charlie on the stairs landing. He clutched a teddy, concern on his small face. “Charlie, s’late.” He walked up the steps to his son.

“Bad dreams.” The little boy pouted and reached up.

“Alright, dad’s gotcha.” Tommy picked him up and did his best to walk a straight line back to Charlie’s bedroom. “Everything’s okay, yeah?” He tucked Charlie back into bed but the boy wouldn’t let go of him.

“Daddy, stay.” He begged.

Tommy sighed but gave in. “Okay.” He lay down next to his son, letting him cuddle close. “Dad’s not going anywhere. M’right here. You can go back to sleep, eh?” He murmured.

Charlie obliged and soon fell asleep in the crook of his father’s arm. But Tommy stayed awake, staring up at the ceiling. A hollow feeling settled into him. It wasn’t unfamiliar but it wasn’t exactly welcome either. He tried to fill it with anything he possibly could. So he decided to go back to her. If Leah could fill that space even for a few hours, he’d have it. An addict through and through, Tommy just wanted to feel something other than hurt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friday night and men were filtering in and out of the hotel. Leah was not herself and everyone around her could tell. She was inattentive, too caught up in her own thoughts to fully interact with the world.

“Leah? Mr. Shelby’s requested your presence.” Billy’s voice pulled her out of the haze.

She didn’t even acknowledge the hushed whispers of the other girls as she stood up and walked out of the room. It was like a siren’s song was luring her down the hallway, back to the room, back to Tommy’s embrace.

He was standing near the window again. This time his eyes were on her as she entered. He crossed the room quickly with his long strides and immediately enveloped her in a searing kiss. He pressed her against the door and hooked his arms under her thighs to scoop her up.

Everything fell to pieces. The worry and confusing guilt shattered against the floor. He didn’t offer her time to ruminate. There was no space to hold such feelings. There was no space between them. Leah locked her ankles against his back and moaned against his lips when he tugged on her lip with his teeth.

Tommy didn’t hold back. He fucked her like the world was about to end. The itch for filling that space was unbearable. But she gave him solace. Her breathy whimpers and gasps spurred him on. Her fingernails left marks that he hoped would remain. He wanted it to last, the feeling that she elicited.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leah watched the end of his cigarette burn. She was in quite a compromising position. Limbs intertwined under the hotel sheets, she rested against his chest, her fingers idly tracing the tattoo on his chest. He was holding her. It was dangerous and they both knew it.

Swallowing the silence in her throat, Leah spoke. “I think you knew my husband.”

Tommy lowered his cigarette, tapping the ash off in the ashtray beside him. “Is that so?” A hint of trepidation filled him. Had he killed her husband? Was she still married and he was fucking her? Both were very plausible scenarios.

“He was a tunneler in the war.” She spoke steadily. She never spoke about her husband in the hotel. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she actually spoke to someone else about him. She was lonely, had been for years. There was no time for friends outside of the hotel and she had no family. So she had no one to talk to.

Relief passed over Tommy. So he wasn’t crossing anyone. “In France?”

She nodded, her hair brushing over his bare skin. “Jonah Ward. He wrote about you, at least I think it was you. Could be someone with the same name.”

Tommy couldn’t stop the sudden reverse back into time. Emerging from the tunnel hauling the man out into the open air.

“Tommy!” Jonah gasped out. His eyes blinked rapidly in the sunlight. “Tom…”

“Right here. You’ll be all right. Arthur!”

The man touched his face. Blood covered his palm. “Fucking finally got me…” He choked out a laugh. “Those tunnels. Thought I’d be done in by a German when I came here.”

Tommy lifted the man’s shirt to find the source of the bleeding. A sickeningly large wound covered his chest. He tried to apply pressure but there didn’t seem to be any hope left for the poor man.

“Tom, y’need to take care of my girl. My Leah. Back home…London.” Jonah grimaced and threw his head back against the muddy ground.

“You’re going to be okay.” Tommy’s hands shook. It wasn’t the first man he saw die and it wouldn’t be the last. But he was still fairly new to watching someone die.

“Promise me. Promise me you’ll look after her when you get back home.”

“I-”

“She don’t got anyone. No family. Please, Tommy.” A few tears slipped down the man’s bloodied face. “I can’t leave her alone.”

“Y-yeah, I’ll take care of her.”

“She’s beautiful…blonde hair. Looks like an angel.” Jonah opened his eyes and stared up at the sky. His eyes glazed over. “Oh…fucking hell…there she is now.” His voice weakened.

Tommy glanced up at the sky but there was nothing there. It was only the hallucination of a dying man.

“Lee…you’ve come to bring me home? I’ve missed you, love.” Jonah smiled before he coughed up blood and forced one more inhale. He twitched twice before going limp.

Cold realization flooded over Tommy. He’d promised. He said he would take care of the woman that was curled up next to him. Was this taking care of her? Paying her for sex? He suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

“Tommy?” Leah furrowed her eyebrows. “Are you okay?”

He swallowed and nodded. “Yeah.” He dropped his cigarette in the ashtray and took a deep breath. “Yeah, I knew him. I knew Jonah.”

Leah propped herself up, looking at him with renewed interest. “You did?” Maybe there was something more left of her husband. Memories from another person. Details she didn’t know.

Tommy scratched absent-mindedly at his cheek. “I was there. I was there when he passed.”

Leah’s chest deflated and her eyes stung with the obligatory tears she had when she thought of her husband. “W-was he in pain?” Her lower lip quivered.

“Think he was in shock, he went peacefully.” He would lie to the widow as long as it meant shielding her from the painful truth. She didn’t need to know the gruesome details of the explosion that caused her husband’s demise.

“Did he say anything?” A tear slipped from her brown eyes and landed on Tommy’s shoulder.

“He spoke of you. He clearly loved you.”

She couldn’t help but quietly cry at the news. “He was such a good man. I w-was so heartbroken.”

Tommy bit the inside of his cheek. He felt the same grief she did. They’d both lost someone they loved so deeply it hurt. “I’m sorry…”

“No, you don’t have to apologize.” Leah wiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get emotional.” She was well aware of how mourning her late husband was a major turn off.

But Tommy didn’t mind one bit. “I lost my wife last year.” He said quietly.

“Oh, Tommy, I’m sorry.” She swallowed and bit her lip. “I didn’t know. M’fraid I don’t much about you.” She admitted.

He nodded slightly and inhaled shakily. “Most people don’t. S’pose you’ve heard rumors.”

“I didn’t want to make assumptions about you.”

Those who didn’t make assumptions about the Shelbys would soon learn it was a mistake. It was better to be overly cautious of fire; a fool tested their luck with it.

Tommy absent-mindedly lifted the cigarette to his lips but paused. His blue-eyes stared across the room in a daze. “I think I owe you an apology, Leah.” He cleared his throat and discarded the rest of his cigarette. Smoke still curled around him as he met her eyes.

“For what?” She sat up next to him, letting the sheets pool around her waist. There was no point covering up for a man who tore into her only moments earlier.

But for Tommy, seeing her bare beside him only drove home the guilt. “When your husband was dying, he asked if I would take care of you.” He wearily ran a hand over his face. “And I promised I would. There’s no excuse for breaking my promise. But now I can offer you a job or-”

Leah went stiff and subtly pulled away from him. “Oh, Tommy, I appreciate it. But that isn’t your responsibility.” She chewed on her lip and averted her eyes. “My Jonah took care of me but he’s gone now. Don’t think I’ll ever remarry so my well-being is my responsibility, not anyone else’s.”

Tommy could see the sadness in her light brown eyes. “But I promised.” He insisted. “I have the means and I can give you a better-”

Leah turned and placed her feet on the floor. “Tommy, please.” She shook her head and turned her back to him. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

“This can’t be what you want from life.” He insisted and reached out to touch her shoulder. But he hesitated and withdrew.

She stood and gathered her things, wrapping herself back up in the robe. “Have a good night, Mr. Shelby.” Her voice was detached and quiet. Her dignity trailed behind her. A whore who refused aid from the king of Birmingham. Jonah only wanted the best for her, but Leah would never be in debt to someone. She was raised to pay her dues and hold her own. So she did. Tommy Shelby wouldn’t carry her through life.

“Leah,” Tommy called after her but she left and shut the door behind her. Retreating into her grief.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jonah Ward was a good man. Raised by a jeweler, he was educated and respectful. His father’s shop was right across from the Robinsons’ chemist shop. That’s where he met Leah Robinson. The teenagers fell hard for each other and were married when they turned eighteen. He was her best friend and never thought she would ever be apart from him.

Then the world fell into war in and he was ripped from her arms. In 1916, Leah received a letter that told her the news. An explosion had permanently taken him. Heartache consumed her and the world seemed to darken. Leah could only guess what Jonah would say if he knew what she did to survive. After her first client, Leah got physically ill and cried. She begged Jonah for forgiveness and sentenced herself to a life of hurt.

Tommy Shelby couldn’t pardon her for her sins. No one could.

Permanent tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea

Let me know if you’d like to be added to this tag list or my permanent Peaky tag!

Masterpost

Masterlist

#tommy shelbyxoc #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #ofc #oc #angst #season 3

139 notes · View notes

7deadlycinderellas · 4 years

Text

Cabin Fever

(in which I write a quarantine fic that I actually manage to set in the canon universe)

AO3 link

Day 1

The journey was only supposed to last three weeks.

There were business deals that needed their word in Dragonstone. Far too many of them for Gendry’s liking, but the deadline on them coincided with a wedding for one of Davos’s sons, so the trip could at least kill two birds with one stone.

And so, him and Arya had packed, checked with the twins (who, at ten years old, were actually ecstatic that they trusted them to be left home alone, ignoring of course that the whole staff had been tasked with keeping them busy and safe, and that the actual business of Storm’s End was being handled by the Castellan), booked passage on a merchant’s ship, and set off for Dragonstone.

The voyage there had been smooth, as had the work once they got there. Both of them were ecstatic to see Davos and Marya again, and the deals went smoothly, and it seemed like no time at all before they were on the ship back.

As befitting a lord and lady, their cabin was nicer than pretty much any of the others onboard. There was a bed wider than a bunk, a nightstand big enough for a basin and candle, a desk with two chairs, and even a window that could be opened.

Arya was lounged out on the bed, and Gendry at the desk the morning the knock came on the door.

Arya glanced up when Gendry got up to answer. They were set to reach Weeping Town later today, but they’ve made great time, maybe they’ve got there already.

“Milord,” she hears from the door. She’s even more confused to see the sailor standing as far back as he could.

“Is there a problem?”

“We’ve reached port early... but it appears several of the men below deck have come down with purple-spotted fever-”

Arya sees Gendry wince. She doesn’t have to ask- neither of them had had purple spotted fever as a child, but he’d told her the story of the year it had spread like wildfire through the orphanage, leaving scars upon the afflicted and rendering about half of them blind or deaf.

“What’s there to be done?” he asks the sailor.

“Standard procedure is to quarantine the ship for two weeks,” Arya feels her breath leave her chest, “No one comes in or out until we find out if anyone else is sick.”

After a moment, Gendry nods.

“Food will be brought in the morning. Please wait until the person who brings it has left to retrieve it. Rain buckets for bathing will also be brought- please empty them as well as your chamber pots out the window. I will come again when the ship has been cleared.”

Gendry closes the door behind him, and glances over his shoulder to where his wife is laying on the bed. She groans.

“Two more weeks…”

Gendry sighs.

“I do have a bunch of proposals I need to write out. And I need to send a letter to the woman running the orphanage we started up in Weeping Town.”

Arya nods.

“I have a ton of letters to keep up with too. I guess we should be able to spend these two weeks working.”

She nods again, and reaches into her bag and pulls out a stack of papers she’d brought with them.

After he finishes the first paragraph of the letter he plans to send back to Storm’s End, Gendry feels Arya’s eyes watching him.

“What?”

“Aren’t you hot? You can take off your jerkin in here, it’s just us.”

As it was spring now, the Stormlands could get quite hot, even through the frequent rains. He supposes she’s right, so he unties and shrugs off his leather jerkin, leaving him in just his linen undershirt.

Sometime later, when he’s finishing up the letter and looking it over, he hears a noise and tilts his head.

Arya has the top tie of her breeches unlaced, he can just see a tiny flash of peachy skin, covered in soft hair, and her fingers disappearing underneath the fabric.

He raises an eyebrow.

Arya sits up a bit on one elbow, but her fingers do not still.

“It occurs to me,” she starts, “That there is no castle staff here. We’re not supposed to be anywhere in five minutes. We have no responsibilities that must be completed today. Our daughters are not going to unexpectedly barge in. We have, in fact, been ordered not to leave our bedroom for two whole weeks.”

Gendry breathes in, then out, and places his quill on the desk. He stands with deliberation.

Slowly, he says, “Take off your pants.”

That first day, she rides him no less than a half dozen times. When his cock demands rest, she rides his fingers instead. And once their muscles have begun to slacken, he lays lazily on one side and licks her cunt raw.

Gasping, and dripping in sweat, he barely manages to roll over and kiss Arya on the head.

“Now that we’ve exhausted ourselves,” he starts, “ I really should work on those proposals tomorrow.”

He wakes up the next morning with his cock in her mouth

Day 2:

Arya’s bent over one of the rain buckets they’d been brought that morning.

“Are you seriously doing laundry?”

Arya smirks at him.

“If I don’t, these sheets will smell worse than we ever could, and I’m not looking the gift horse of this nice, big, latching window in the mouth.”

She wrings it out best she can, and throws it over the open window, using the edge to hold it in place. Might as well take advantage of the brief lack of rain.

“And you laughed at me for packing soap.”

Day 3

“What proposal are you working on now anyway?”

Gendry raises his gaze from the paper to the bed where Arya’s finishing the soup that had been brought for supper.

“I’m sending out notice to several tradesmen in the area, to see if they’re willing to take in apprentices from the orphanage. They wouldn’t be required to house or feed them, since they would go back there at night, so I’m hoping that I can convince them not to charge for the training.”

Arya is thoughtful.

“We would have to vet them pretty harshly, and make sure the women at the orphanage know how to question the children when they return. Don’t want anyone just using them for free labor, or worse.”

They both nod, thinking of the horrific story they’d been told of the ship builder who’d taken Daron in as an apprentice after his parents died.

Gendry nods.

“I know. But it makes me so mad to see these big masses of children with no futures.”

Arya agrees.

“Sansa’s been trying some things up north, seeing if there are any farm families willing to take in orphans. She fears much the same as we do. There are too many orphans, but there are too many things that need doing to.”

It does seem, that there are an endless number of things that need doing when your livelihood is looking after an entire land's people.

Day 4

“Arya are you...using that paper just to draw cocks?”

Arya makes a face.

“No- I was making a list of all the places back in Storm’s End where we’d fucked, but I think I actually ran out.”

He reaches over the desk and grabs her paper.

“Library, stables, cave, godswood…”

He keeps going. And going. Lot of fun memories in this list.

“I actually think you got them all.”

Her cocks are actually pretty good too, all thick and veiny with huge balls.

“Can you draw me some tits too?”

Arya huffs when she takes the paper back.

When she’s working on it, his mind is piqued, wondering what she’s coming up with.

But when she slides it back across the table with a smirk, he is pleased. She’s no artist, but the crude drawing of herself (he assumes, and he won’t imagine anyone else), nude, tits heaving and knees spread wide with her fingers buried inside herself is perfectly adequate.

“Hmm,” he says, unlacing himself, and taking his cock in hand. He doesn’t usually get roused so quickly, but something about this quarantine is making him feel young and carefree. “Might need some alone time with this.”

“Oh come,” Arya groans, trying to reach over and grab it.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” he says, jumping up and out of her reach. He’s already pretty damn hard, and the picture is actually strangely arousing. His cock is at full mast now, and he tugs on it with fierce determination, moaning obnoxiously.

Eventually, she manages to yank the paper away, but it’s too late, Gendry’s stretched himself out on the bed, tugging rapidly at his cock, letting every nasty fantasy run through his head in her rough stick figures, and well before she can celebrate, he comes across his belly.

She gets her revenge later that night, retrieving the sculpted cock she’d obtained in a port in Essos during her years at sea. It was made of some sort of glass, solid and heavy, and shaped by a hand that obviously knew what it was going to end up being used for. Extremely easy to keep clean she’d said too. She’d shown it to him plenty before, often even letting him use it on her himself, though she insisted that it paled compared to the real thing.

“Why’d you even bring that?” he asks over his supper as she peels off her breeches, kneels over the cock and buries it deep in herself, bouncing up and down on it and moaning, deliberately meeting his eye.

“I thought you might be busy when we were in Dragonstone and I would get lonely.”

And he somehow manages to finish his supper in due time, despite the sounds of her pleasure and the squelch of it sliding in and out of herself echoing through the cabin.

Day 5

“Seven hells, what day is it?”

“I have no idea,”

Day 6

“How do you think Lyra and Lysa are coping without us?”

Arya sighs and sets down her letter.

“It probably sounds strange, but I don’t think they’ll even miss us at all. They’ve both gotten so independent lately.”

Neither of them have to say that they’d both missed the twins every single day since they’d been gone.

After a long silence, Gendry admits.

“Lyra told me before we left she wants to be a knight.”

Arya chuckles. She’s so pleased that her daughter is growing up where it might even be a possibility.

“In two years, if she hasn’t changed her mind, we can write to Brienne, see if her or Podrick could use a squire.”

They know it’s only a slim possibility that their child will still be on the same dream in two years time.

Gendry sighs.

“I suppose that would give us the answer for which one to name as heir.”

Arya frowns.

“It would, but it doesn’t mean Lysa would be ready for it. I don’t know why she’s so convinced that we would automatically pick Lyra. She hasn’t had a tantrum in years, and Maester Elric says they’re both good students.”

Gendry shrugs, and scoots back over to the bed so he can kiss her head.

“I don’t know. You’re still convinced you’re not beautiful, even though no one’s called you horseface in years.”

That makes her smile.

Day 7

Gendry comes all over his hand almost as soon as he gets his breeches undone.

Arya wrinkles her nose.

“Seriously?”

“Hey I told you not to tease me so much.”

She had too, been teasing him all morning. Pouring water over her linen shirt and leaving it half buttoned up. Idly mentioning that she hadn’t bothered putting on smallclothes. Leaning over the desk so her tits were right in his face.

She sighs. Then gets a glint in her eye.

“How many times do you think you can get me off before you can go again.”

The glint is now mirrored in Gendry’s eye.

“Is that a challenge?”

She comes underneath his fingers, one.

Then under his tongue, two.

His tongue on her nub, stuffed with three fingers, three.

Three fingers, he curls and presses them up while sucking her nub. Four

She’s twisted onto her stomach now, and he gets four fingers in. Five

She’s stuffed full and grinding back against his hand, panting and swearing. He’s using both hands now, one in her cunt, one on her nub. Six, then seven.

She’s sweating and bleary eyed now, so Gendry pushes her back onto her back, and soothes her swollen, quivering flesh with his tongue. Eight, slowly, gently.

He only idly notices when his cock actually is hard again. This whole challenge thing is too much fun.

“Eight,” he announces, proudly.

Breathing heavily, Arya looks over her knees to his erection, big and purple and bouncing proudly.

“Well, come here and get on it.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“You want to keep going? Don’t you want to take a rest.”

Arya huffs, sits up and pushes him on his back, straddling him.

“Never.”

She can’t walk right for the rest of the day, but even as she reclines with a cloth soaked in cold rainwater on her groin, insists that it was completely worth it.

Day 8

Arya is stymied.

“I don’t know how to respond to this letter Sansa sent me.”

Gendry looks up,

“What’s her trouble?”

“She’s thinking of getting married again and wants to know how she can find a husband who’s actually only interested in men.”

Gendry’s rendered speechless.

“She...wants a husband who doesn’t want her?”

Arya smiles grimly.

“That’s about it. She was hurt so badly by Ramsey, she doesn’t know if she’ll ever want to be with a man physically again. But the other northerners are pressuring her to marry and because there must always be a Stark in Winterfell…”

Gendry frowns in thought.

“I would say ask Daron and Tim for advice, but I don’t know if either of them can read.”

Arya sighs again, and picks up her quill.

Day 9

“Is it raining again?”

“Did it ever stop?”

Day 10

“Bella’s doing well, she says.”

Gendry raises his gaze. A year or two ago, with King Bran’s assistance, Gendry had been reaching out to and meeting his few remaining half siblings. Mya and Bella had both come to Storm’s End for a time, though both had chosen to move on now, they had both learned to read and write enough to keep in touch.

“Did she say how she’s liking Mistwood?”

Arya nods.

“Says it’s much nicer than where she was in the Riverlands, and the woman who’s training her is teaching her a ton. She especially likes that no one there knows what she used to do for a living.”

That had been the day Arya felt most like a proper lady. The day she had managed to subtly ask if Bella really in fact liked her line of work, or if she’d rather be spending her life doing something else. Her words still rung in her head.

‘It’s easy work to like when you’re young and want the acknowledgement that you’re pretty, but it really grinds on once you start to get older.’

And the old midwife in Mistwood had been happy enough to have a student.

Gendry grunts.

“Good, so she can stay there being all judgemental.”

“You’re still mad that she said we sounded boring?”

“All because we said we’d never invite a third person into our bed!”

“You’re too sensitive...beside, she wouldn’t understand that we’d still have to go about our lives and look that third person in the eye and talk to them afterwards, that would be weird…”

Night 10/Day 11

Gendry wakes after dozing off by his wife whispering in his ear. Opening his eyes, he sees that she’s lit the candle on the bedside, and is standing beside him in her shift.

She moves to the desk, and pulls out the chair, before kneeling upon it. She leans forward onto the desk and lifts her shift over her hips, baring her arse and cunt to him. She looks back over her shoulder.

“Quick,” she whispers, “Before my husband gets back.”

Gendry stands, and slips into character as he sheds his sleep pants.

He runs his fingers over her cunt, which is dripping wet already (what on earth had she been up to before he woke?). He bends forward and mutters in her ear,

“What would your husband think if he saw you down here wiggling your arse for a bastard like me?”

He takes himself in hand and plunges into her roughly from behind.

Arya leans forward and presses her cheek against the wood of her desk as her breathing becomes rougher.

“He can’t make me feel like you do.”

Gendry grips her hips tightly and keeps thrusting faster and harder, making her moan.

“Bad little girl,” he says, “Leaving your lord husband to come and fuck a lowborn bastard. Someone should punish you for that.”

He can’t see Arya’s face, but he can practically see her eyes begin to twinkle.

“I have been bad. Maybe you should give me a spanking.”

He runs his hand along her smooth skin, considering, before raising it.

His hand lands across her bum with a ‘crack’.

“I’m not sure that quite got the message across.”

He slaps her bum twice more, each time earning a grunt and a rush of wetness around his cock.

He leans forward to whisper to her again.

“Let go then, come for me like he could never make you.”

He spanks her once, twice, three more times. Then he puts his hands on both her shoulders and pushes her to the desk so he can get better leverage. He fucks her like she’s a bit of metal on his anvil- hard and deep, but with skill and finesse. Arya’s moans rise almost to a scream and he feels her fluttering around his cock, not only once but twice, and he’s just about to-

She reaches back and grabs one wrist.

“I can’t have a bastard,” she cries out, still in character, “Come here, I’ll suck you off.”

She slides off the desk to the floor and kneels at his feet, looking up at him through her lashes in a way Arya never once has, before taking him in her hot little mouth. She sucks him with her sweet lips, moaning as she tastes herself on his cock. Gendry’s hands find the back of her head, winding his fingers in her hair, and thrusting against her face, moaning loudly, letting her know just how close he is.

When he comes with a yell, she swallows him down, his seed spilling out over her lips, which she licks. She stands, and kisses him, letting him taste the both of them together.

Later that night, back in bed, Gendry mutters.

“We’re going to have to come up with some better scenarios, I’m starting to feel bad for these made up men you’re cheating on.”

Arya snorts.

“Well we don’t have enough room in here to play wildlings.”

“I still don’t know why you had me run me ragged for that.”

Arya props herself up on one elbow to glare at him.

“If you think a wildling would just let you pick her up and have your way with her, you’ve got another thing coming.”

She’s pensive for a moment.

“We should come with something new though.”

“We could be knight and squire again.”

“That was a good one...I want to be the knight this time though.”

“Alright.”

“Also, keep thinking. We don’t have rope, so we can’t do pirate captives.”

“You fell asleep last time we did that.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“It’s not my fault that you make me so comfortable when you tie me up. Besides, who said I was going to be the captive?”

She’s having him on. Seeing him tied up still sort of makes her want to cry, all these years later, instead of making her hot. She suspects admitting that was actually what made Bella call them boring. She segues back into her point.

“I want to be able to spank you next time.”

Gendry laughs.

“You can just ask, I’ll let you do it, we don’t have to come up with a story.”

Arya opens one eye, looking at him. She remembers once having confided in him that it wasn’t even the whole “idea of being punished” that got her off, it was just that she thought being slapped on the bum felt good.

“You don’t mind?”

“Arya, I trust you. I let you put my balls in your mouth, You can slap my arse all you want.”

Which is how Gendry ends up on his hands and knees the next morning, his breeches pulled halfway down his thighs and Arya’s hand leaving red marks on his arse, again and again.

“Would you like another?”

Gendry nods, before Arya’s hand lands again.

His cock is hard and leaking, begging for a single touch.

Arya was right though, he thought, it did feel pretty good.

Day 12

The sun shines on day 12, and Gendry wakes up with a tickle.

“Shh,” Arya tells him, “Don’t move.”

Gendry blinks, realizing he’s on his stomach and she’s running something along his arse cheeks.

“Is that that ink you got from that Essosian trader last year?”

Arya nods in assent. The man had espoused the plant based ink as being much cheaper and easier to obtain, but when she attempted to write on paper with it, it became clumpy and thick very quickly.

Then she remembered seeing men in Braavos with dark marks, words and pictures, drawn onto their skin, and it hit her what the ink was likely mostly used for.

“What are you drawing?”

She snickers, having drawn two smiling faces on each side of his arse. The sheet had slipped down past it overnight, and with the sun shining through, it made far too perfect a canvas to resist.

“Nothing really.”

Several more minutes pass with her idly doodling when he asks.

“Does it dry fast?”

“Pretty much as soon as it’s spread.”

Another moment.

“Can I try?”

She blows on his skin and rubs at it to make sure it’s all set, before handing him the bottle and rolling onto her side of the bed.

“I want to do your front though, so you can see.”

On her back, she watches as Gendry’s deft hand with the brush turns her nipples into the centers of sunbursts, and trees, vines and flowers emerge from the nest between her legs.

“You’re pretty good at this you know.”

Gendry smiles bashfully.

“Well, you have to be able to draw if you want to get someone’s design exactly as they want it, it was a skill I sort of had to develop and then never really thought about.”

She’s quiet for a long time.

“Ever think of doing it properly, on paper or a canvas?”

He snorts.

“I don’t know. There’s so much else I have to do, and I doubt the other lords who still look at me like I’m pretending would be at all impressed by some nice pictures I drew.”

Arya frowns.

“It would hardly be the most eccentric hobby I’ve heard of a highborn having...and besides, if it makes you happy, it’s worth it.”

Gendry chuckles as he recaps the bottle of ink. He scoots up, takes Arya’s face in his hands and kisses her warmly.

“Maybe you’re right,” he murmurs against her lips, “But I still think you’re my favorite canvas.”

She murmurs softly back her agreement.

“Hey, this stuff washes off in water right?”

“Yes”

“...so if we get too sweaty, we’ll just smear it all on the sheets.”

“Hmm,” Arya mutters when he kisses her jaw, “I need to wash them again anyway.”

Day 13

Arya’s studying him from her spot on the pillow. It’s raining outside again, and the cool air filters through the cracked window into the cabin.

“Something on your mind?”

Arya flops onto her back and stares at the pattern of beams on the ceiling, for the millionth time these past two weeks.

“I want another baby,” she blurts out.

Gendry rolls on his side to look at her.

“I thought we decided to leave that up to the gods?”

Arya laughs.

“It seems we are, I ran out of the ingredients for moon tea three days ago,”

Something in Gendry’s mind clicks and he nods in recognition.

He leans in and kisses her chin.

“I’d happily raise a whole village of babes with you, but what makes you think this now?”

Arya frowns, almost to a pout.

“I just keep thinking of the twins back home, completely fine without us. They're our daughters, we love them, but they’re past the point where they depend completely on us. And I guess...I miss when they were tiny and needed me.”

“They’ll always need us,” Gendry assures her, hands on her shoulders. “But maybe this timing is a blessing. We’ve had more time together these past two weeks than I think we managed in the last six moons.”

Arya murmurs in agreement.

Gendry grins, mischievously.

“And we’ve got a whole ‘nother day left”.

His expression drags a smile back onto Arya’s face, and she reaches to pull her shift over her head.

Later, he presses his lips to the back of her neck, wrapping his arms around her middle and snuggling up against her back.

“I’m not tired, if you’re not.”

Arya laughs, shifting her leg and letting him slide into her again.

“If I had known talking about babes would get you going this much, I’d have thrown away my moon tea weeks ago.”

Day 14

“Everything’s all packed up?”

“Yup.”

They sit together on the edge of the bed.

“Any time now.”

It feels like forever before the sailor comes and knocks to tell them the ship has been cleared and they are not free to leave.

It feels like forever, but it’s barely past breakfast.

They’re off board as fast as their feet can carry them. Arya steps off to find one of the sailors about sending their bags ahead to Storm’s End.

Gendry stops to thank the captain while Arya fidgets in the background.

The captain eyes her.

“She your wife? I’m surprised you two are even in the same room after these two weeks, the men below deck have been at each other’s throats since day one. “

Gendry smiles.

“No, I think we got on fine.”

They step out on solid land, and Arya takes his arm as they walk towards where they can borrow a pair of horses to return.

“I love you to death,” she whispers against his arm, “But I cannot wait to talk to people who aren’t you.”

He smiles, and throws an arm around her.

“Soon we’ll be home, our daughters will run to us,” he muses.

"We'll have fresh food for supper, be able to use the privy without anyone watching, have someone else to do our laundry," Arya sing-songs in response.

“Our castellan will share with us everything that has no doubt caught on fire since we left. There will be a pile of ravens as thick as my hand to dig through, people will come to us with problems every hour of every day, we’ll be expected to actually get dressed properly every morning…”

He feels her still.

“Do you think the captain will let us back onboard?”

#game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #gendrya #quarantine fic #this is the horniest damn thing I have ever written #fic

17 notes · View notes

being-worthy · 4 years

Text

The Last of Us Part II – Adding my two cents to the game

Just so we’re clear, let’s establish a few things first:

MAJOR TLOU II SPOILERS AHEAD!!

I also spoiled myself ahead because I needed to know what would happen to Joel and Ellie… and the ending as well.

I’ve played the first one. I liked how it ended and totally support the ending!

I haven’t played the 2nd part but I’m watching the playthrough on YouTube in small doses. My heart can’t take much of it at once lol (and being poor and paying of debt for a loved one is no fun because I don’t have much money to spend on myself).

Right now, I’m at the part where Joel goes with Ellie to the museum for her birthday – it’s so cute and fatherly and my heart can’t take how bittersweet this is …

The 2nd part was rushed and has some bugs that could’ve been avoided, whether you like it or not. That’s a fact and we’re here for the facts not the truth (if you want the truth join a philosophy course).

The parts with Abby are too long, more than what they should’ve been and her vengeance is 💩.

English is not being my first language but I do my best (that’s all I can do).

I’m listening to Bryan Adams and Richard Max while writing this because I’m still not over Joel…

You may voice your opinion but remember this is my space! Be respectful at all times and absolute no hate here!

The first part ended with Joel bringing an unconscious Ellie to the hospital where the last Fireflies are, she almost drowned and he had to perform CPR on her. He’s rendered unconscious too and wakes up on a hospital bed with Marlene and Ethan (the guy who hit Joel in the head with the butt of his rifle) in the room.

That’s when he starts asking where Ellie is and Marlene informs him that she’s not his problem anymore and being prepped for surgery. Here, we need to note the following things: Marlene had sworn to Ellie’s mother to protect and to keep her from harm’s way but TAKES the decision to practically sentence her to death and yeah, she gives a speech that it’s not easy for her either yada yada yada but it’s all bs. The reason why is because:

a) making a decision refers more to the process and is something that takes time, while taking a decision is the act of deciding something that happens in an instant. Ultimately, Marlene decides for HER!! What about ‘my body, my decision’? Or in this case ‘her body, her decision’? It doesn’t matter if it’s related to an abortion or having your skull opened, the same principle should be applied!

She even says to Joel ‘because this isn’t about me. Or even her. There is no other choice here’. – Firstly, there’s always another choice! Secondly, Joel replies to her saying ‘yeah, you keep telling yourself that bullshit’ and he’s right, it’s total and utter bullshit. Even later on, when he’s carrying Ellie into the parking lot (I believe it was a parking lot), he tells her ‘that ain’t for you to decide’. Again, he’s right. It isn’t Marlene’s decision nor his but Ellie is still unconscious, so what do you want to do? Let them butcher her open? He crossed with her through half the country and ended up caring profoundly for her – she became like a daughter to him. He doesn’t have an on and off switch to turn off his feelings towards Ellie. Moreover, do tell me, if you’d like a doctor or someone else TAKE such a decision for you, instead of waiting for you to wake up and then tell you about the procedure and what this will entail. I get freaking furious whenever someone takes a decision for me or without asking me first.

b) Neither she nor the doctor wait for Ellie to regain consciousness and since she’s unconscious, they see it as the perfect importunity to just go ahead and rummage in her brain to see if there’s something that could help them developing a vaccine or a cure.

c) That’s another thing. They had zero guarantees, not even a 0.1 percentage of probability that they’d find something – nothing, nada, zilch. Just a hunch and maybe in an apocalyptic world for some people this might be enough but then why not wait until she wakes up and tell her ‘we don’t know for sure if your immunity will help us finding a cure or a vaccine. So that’s why we need to open your skull and see what makes you immune which ultimately, will kill you’ (in some nicer words though lol). Because they know she might not fully agree with it and they give a sh*t about what she thinks/wants and have that narrow military/cult mindset of ‘a sacrifice for the greater good’ and/or wouldn’t care either way because she’s a kid. I’m no fan of sacrificing one or a dozen people to save billions. If we can’t save them all or at least try our damn hardest, then we’re doing something terribly wrong! Also, she’s a freaking kid!! She hasn’t seen much and has her whole life ahead, doesn’t matter if it’s in the apocalypse. The thought that they’re willing to sacrifice her, a kid, without batting an eye shows me that all Fireflies are terrorists.

d) Now to the doctor (the one with the scalpel) – according to the internet this guy was Abby’s father and his murder was why she tortured and slaughtered Joel. First things first, every doctor has to take on a Hippocratic oath. There are many different variations but they all come from an old one that states the following:

… I will apply dietetic measures for the benefit of the sick according to my ability and judgment; I will keep them from harm and injustice.

I will neither give a deadly drug to anybody if asked for it, nor will I make a suggestion to this effect. Similarly, I will not give to a woman an abortive remedy. In purity and holiness, I will guard my life and my art.

I will not use the knife, not even on sufferers from stone, but will withdraw in favour of such men as are engaged in this work.

Whatever houses I may visit, I will come for the benefit of the sick, remaining free of all intentional injustice, of all mischief and in particular of sexual relations with both female and male persons, be they free or slaves.

… If I fulfil this oath and do not violate it, may it be granted to me to enjoy life and art, being honoured with fame among all men for all time to come; if I transgress it and swear falsely, may the opposite of all this be my lot.

The doctor doesn’t keep her from harm or injustice, he isn’t even there for her well-being, only to see how her brain ticks. So, that immense violation of his oath doesn’t make him a doctor anymore but a BUTCHER and don’t come to me with ‘but it’s the apocalypse or it’s for the greater good blah blah blah’, then how better are we compared to rapists and people who murder out of fun? If we throw our principles out of the window just because it’s the apocalypse and/or it’s for the greater good, then with all due respect we all should just go ahead and jump from a building and burn in hell.

e) I got to the part where Joel and Ellie went to the museum for her birthday and at the end there’s a graffiti that says ‘liars’ with the fireflies’ symbol above. Even at the end, their own members saw that they Fireflies were only a bunch full of hot air and nothing else. They ended up being terrorists and forgot what they once stood and fought for.

So, taking all this into consideration - who wouldn’t have saved her? And yes, Joel saves her out of selfishness, so what? True, that he didn’t tell her the truth either, but can you resent him for this? He’d have to tell her that Marlene betrayed her, betrayed her trust and her mother’s trust in her and was willing to let her die and let her body being violated (rape is not the only way to violate someone’s body – FYI). This would have impacted Ellie’s state of mind too. She’d have ended up resenting Marlene and the Fireflies or worse. She had gone through so much already and didn’t need more on her plate. So, he spared her that betrayal and resentment.

Now let’s talk a bit more about Joel. Joel is no saint or hero but no villain either. He’s just a man who was willing to doom the whole already-damned world to protect the girl he adopted. He does what he needs in order to survive but within some reason and hasn’t lost his humanity (it’s just deeply hidden in him), he’s a person trying to survive. He tortures people - yes, but only to get information and makes sure to end them quickly afterwards. I agree that one of the main things you’ve to do during such times, is to adapt or you’ll die or worse. In the 1st part he’s rough, tough, strong, stubborn, resilient, experienced in the world he lives in and wary of strangers (just remember that scene on the highway with the stranger pretending to be hurt and Joel knew from the moment he saw him that it was a trap), someone you don’t want to mess with, etc. On the other hand, there’s this other side of him where he teaches Ellie to swim, tries to joke with her, to play the guitar, takes her to beautiful places, he takes her to a museum with dinosaurs and stuff from space, that proves he’s capable for carrying deeply for someone, in this case Ellie, and don’t get me started on the gift he gives her when they’re in the space capsule (!!), and so on. Ellie and Joel have this great dynamic. Then in the 2nd part, they made him to be so trustworthy toward a young unknown girl, tells her even their REAL names, like he literally says ‘my name’s Joel and that’s my brother Tommy. We live further down’. Dude, why don’t you just go walking around with a banner around your neck stating who you are to the whole freaking world. At some point he even said the name of their home (Jackson)!’ - WHAT THE HOLY F*CK?! He even offered her to go with them and take her to their home and give her supplies. Then, even BLINDLY and WITHOUT ANY WARINESS follows her to a place with an unknown sized group, where he and Tommy don’t know anyone - HOLY FREAKING HELL?! It’s not like it could be a trap, I mean it’s completely normal that there are many survivors camping up in the mountains in the middle of a snow blizzard, it’s the perfect season for doing that ¬¬. We’re living in times were everyone is kind to each other… I just don’t get it. This behaviour change is too radical and old habits die hard, especially ones acquired and used for decades!! That’s a big flaw from Naughty Dog regarding Joel. They portrayed him as someone stupid (sorry Joel but it’s true), sloppy, too soft, etc. He’s older and fatherlier with Ellie all fine and good, but he’d still be very cautious toward outsiders, particularly when they outnumber him!! It’s true that at some point we’ll have to be more trustworthy toward others in order to try and reestablish society or something close to it but you’d still be wary and wouldn’t take them right to your home first thing!! I had also into consideration that they were being chased by a horde of runners and clickers and their options where limited but still!

In some games the death of an important and primary character is sometimes essential. TLOU II is one of them because this was necessary for Ellie to grown and learn more about herself, the world she lives in, among others but Joel deserved way better than what he got! I feel for Tommy too, he didn’t deserve to split up with Maria or lose an eye but I believe the reason as to why he became obsessed with avenging Joel was because he already thinks he failed him in the past already, either when Sarah died, or when he joined the Fireflies and Joel wasn’t happy about it, or when they blindly trusted Abby and her friends.

Before I start with Abby, we need to establish something else first: revenge is about retaliation; justice is about restoring balance. The motive of revenge has mostly to do with expressing rage, hatred, or spite. It’s a protest or payback, and its foremost intent is to harm. And because it’s so impassioned, it’s typically disproportionate to the original injury—meaning that it usually can’t be viewed as just. The punishment may fit the crime, but it’s often an exaggerated response to another’s perceived offense. Nevertheless, I do believe that justice comes from vengeance but that type of justice only breeds more vengeance, and this is what Abby essentially does, avenge her father (even though I believe he lost his way and became unscrupulous) and ends up being capable to live with herself with little to no trouble after what she did to Joel, after repeatedly hitting him over and over and over again with a golf club, and forcing Ellie to watch the last bit. Abby and a bunch of others, who were also aware of her secretive plans, travel thousands of miles just to find Joel and brutalise him and massacre him. That scene was really brutal. But at some point both Abby and Ellie have to realise that vengeance is not the answer and if everyone keeps coming back seeking vengeance, then they’ll move around in a vicious circle until someone decides to forgive because killing like this not only hurts themselves, but also those they love and love them.

I don’t see the WLF as a whole as someone who deserves sympathy. They’re quite similar to the Fireflies who maybe at some point had noble goals (or almost) but ended up strayed from their path. They loot and kill everyone they see, no questions asked (much like the police these days in our world), even if they’re just passing by and aren’t affiliated to any group and just want to survive.

The ending of TLOU II couldn’t have been better. Ellie was happy with Dina and the baby but deep down she knew she didn’t close the chapter with Joel’s murder. Abby, and knew that at some point, she’d have to revisit that part to close it entirely. Her leaving with Tommy was the right decision, even if Dina wouldn’t/couldn’t fully understand why and I feel sad for Maria too but I strongly believe that she’ll return - whether or not Dina will wait for her is another story.

This is all I’ve to add. I’ve been sitting her for about 5+ hours writing this because I wanted to put my perspective of this masterpiece out there and show people that the game is still great.

Let me know your thoughts!!

#the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou #tlou2 #tlou2 spoilers #tlou joel #tlou ellie #the last of us 2 spoilers #joel miller #ellie williams #tlou abby

8 notes · View notes

iguessihavemore · 4 years

Text

TD Garden Chap.2: Not Your Garden Variety Pt.2

I wanted to finish off this episode with this part, but I’m having trouble with a few scenes after what I have here, along with the plethora of shit going on lately that I’m guessing you can imagine. So I decided to make this a 2/3 instead. I feel like it gives a pretty good idea of what everybody is running off to do anyway, so I hope you enjoy it for now!

The host produced two folded pieces of paper from his back pocket, holding them out to the mass of teens in front of him. “Y’all ready for a little island/garden scavenger hunt-”

“IT’S CHALLENGE TIMEeEeE!!!” Jackson screeched, lunging forward and ripping both from him. Chris held his hands up palm-open at the boy.

Rosie rolled up one of her boxy sleeves. “Hey now-” She began lightly.

Nadine waved at her to stay, dancing forward instead. After a few quick steps, Nadine stretched over on one foot until she was nearly horizontal. The sudden image of her face at his chest made Jackson jump, and she took the opportunity to pluck one of the lists from him.

“Hrmph!” He grunted, tearing the remaining one open. Both teams leaned into their respective paper.

A noticeable rift was between the Cheshire Queens and Hare Hatters now, and the only ones within it were the conjoined twins. They both turned a head to a team, then at each other over their shared shoulder. Avery and Erika whispered until they reached a conclusion, opting to sidle towards the Queens.

Chris cleared his throat and began to explain what they were reading. “Both teams have to find twelve roses, then an additional double-headed rose. So thirteen in all.” A few eyes flicked towards the twins. “After that, you’ll see that there are a bunch of taped-on flower names. You only have to pick four.” The teens sighed in relief- finding upwards of twenty things hadn’t sounded like much fun.

“And you’re going to want to choose wisely. Once you collect all your flowers, you need to make a bouquet with them. It needs to have a theme, and it needs to not look like GARBAGE. Just saying that because I want you all to know that I don’t have faith in any of you, so just ‘not bad’ will suffice. The team that has the nicer bouquet may be able to win, even if it’s incomplete. However, your team can only end the challenge if you’ve collected all of your flowers.” The host explained.

Pathetically, Rosie whined, “So all this means…. when we find them, we HAVE to p- p- p- p- pick them…?”

“...Yeeeaaahhh…” Chris drawled blandly.

“Oh, Chris, I can’t-!” Rosie cried out.

“Ah-ah!” Chris harshly waved off her outburst. Her bottom lip quivered agape, but she opted to start fretfully biting her nails instead.

“Now, with my flawless photographic memory, we dumped the stuff…” Chris muttered under his breath, squinting into the distance with his hands bordering his face. Lucas perked up out of his pouting long enough to curiously come up behind him, twisting the host a few inches to the side. “Right there!” Chris immediately said, motioning in that direction with his hands like an aircraft marshall. Lucas put his fists on his hips proudly.

“Go down that way, and you’ll find all the supplies you’ll need for making a bouquet. It’s also where we threw all your luggage.”

Jackson snapped his head up from reading the list. His knees started to bob as he listened more intently.

“And that’s all you really need to know-” Chris began to conclude, prompting Jackson to jump up and tear towards where they were directed.

The action alone set an uneasy energy through the rest, impatiently eying Chris. He gave an irritated sigh and a short nod, and the tense batch of teens took off, just itching to begin this game.

All but one, that is.

“Wh- hey! What are you all doing!?” Roger yelled, throwing his hands up. “You’re going the wrong way!”

“Come on Roger, catch up!” Jennifer impatiently ordered him.

“But- but- don’t we need roses? There was a bush full of them but- they’re in the other direction!!” He was just about screaming to be heard as the distance between him and the others grew larger, but what he said stopped them in their tracks.

Within seconds, Paulie swiveled on her heel and rushed backwards, toothily grinning. She shoved the team scepter into the muscular crook of Tony’s arm as she passed. He blinked down at it.

A few members of the Hare Hatters were up to the task, but Cameron was the one who broke into a run for it first. “I got this!” She cockily assured the rest. With a person from each team on it, most of them went back to barreling towards the tools and luggage.

Roger only watched the girls go past him. “I don’t-” He huffed, confused and irritated. “Which way are we going, then!? Why do we even need to run-”

Amelia jogged back for him. Her voice even more feathery than usual, she told him, “Paulie’s going to get the flowers. Come on Roger, let’s go get our stuff!” She flashed a smile at him and took his hand in hers.

“AH UH oh,” Roger failed to object, probably unsure if he wanted to, and simply allowed her to lead him into running with the others.

They passed in front of both sets of sisters: the twins, who were the only ones who opted to walk, and Stella and Marina, who were jogging lightly side-by-side. Stella watched after them, eyes half-lidded. “REAL dumb.”

*The Shed: Stella and Marina* The adopted sisters sat on either side of the bench. Stella was slumped over, idly toying with a trowel, while Marina addressed the camera. “Too many people assume that Stella isn’t smart because she can’t communicate well. But that isn’t the case at all! She’s full of good thoughts and ideas.”

She looked at her sister. “People like Roger who are able to process and communicate neurotyically but can’t… do a lot with it?” She bashfully rose a brow, trying not to say ‘dumb.’ “Might make Stella a bit jealous.” *End* *III*

Cameron and Paulie were heading full-speed towards the winner’s cabin. Paulie’s lime-colored coils bounced behind her, and Cameron’s plum hair hopped around her face, the green tips flying wildly. They shared a competitive smile as they kept pace with one another, a playful edge to their respective dusty red and dark pink eyes.

When they came to the bush, they wasted no time in circling it and grabbing their roses, getting a little nicked by the thorns in the process. Paulie jumped away from it first, whirling around pridefully. “First!”

“Tch, well-” Cameron was prepared to retort, but her final grab for her last rose came up empty. “Wha? Heheh.” She held up a finger to silently ask that Paulie wait. The baker responded by shifting her weight to one foot and putting her empty hand on hip, smirking.

Cameron searched around it a few more times. She stomped up to Paulie suspiciously. “How is it that YOU got twelve roses and I got all the way up to eleven, but there aren’t ANY more left?”

Paulie shrugged. “Man, I don’t know, you see that I only got a dozen!”

Cameron counted them and deflated. “Awfully strange it only had twenty-three.” She frowned at her own incompletely bundle.

“Probs just a coincidence and not, like, something they planned. It ain’t anybody’s fault how many times the thing tries to reproduce. Or whatever roses are biologically for.” Paulie mused.

“Yeah… but it’s your fault that you’re gonna eat my dust!” Cameron charged off.

“Oh-HO!” The punk gleefully followed suit.

*The Shed: Paulie* “I really only did pick a dozen!” Paulie flashed her now-empty hands forward. She reached behind her back and pulled out her thirteenth rose, giving it a sniff. “Well, a baker’s dozen, but who’s counting?” *End* *III*

Soon enough for the head of the pack, two tables came into view. He rushed by both, completely ignoring them to get to the stacks of bags and suitcases at the end of the clearing. Not that he cared, but the foliage around him consisted mostly of twiggy shrubs and patches of wild flowers.

Jackson located his duffel bag with an excited wheezy noise, immediately lunging for it.

CLANG

A second too late, his eyes unfocused enough to let him see that he was careening for a metal cage. And then his face ran into it.

“ooOWW!” He seethed, pulling himself up. “What?” He scrambled around the metal frame, trying to get to his stuff until he finally realized it was stuck inside. He found a padlock and yanked it to no avail. “A hostage situation!?”

Jennifer trotted up behind him, followed by Tony, Jupiter in a sweat, and Amelia with Roger. They all understood that their stuff was locked inside the cage without needing to run into it.

Jupiter noticed the other team come up to a second cage, spaced exactly like the tables. “Guess we only get our things when the challenge ends- er- I mean when we win, eh?” They attempted a smile.

“You betcha!” Amelia agreed, freeing Roger from herself. He turned away, crossing his arms to stare only at the sky if not nervously side-eyeing the actress. Amelia addressed Jackson, putting on a worried expression. “Chris will doubtfully let us get anything from there for awhile. Is that okay? No immediate concerns?”

Jackson brushed off his knees. “Nah, I just needed to make sure nobody got their grubby hands on my stuff! Looks like it’s safe- for now…” He suspiciously surveyed the clearing.

“Now,” Jennifer stepped closer. “May I finally get my hands on THIS?” She swiped down and tore their list from his tight grasp. He nervously chuckled and apologized, which Jennifer rolled her eyes at.

At last, the conjoined twins made it to the area. There was still a wide gap between the teams. They could have decided to stay in the middle of that and render themselves utterly useless, but opted to gravitate towards the Hare Hatters this time. They were greeted to Rosie speedily pacing back and forth, panicking out loud.

Marina and Stella were climbing on the cage; Nadine and Annabelle were examining the array of tools on the table. They were all clearly keeping watch of the nature enthusiast.

“You’re supposed to leave nature as is!” She fretted. “I can’t possibly go against camping 101, rule numero UNO! I WILL FALL APART!”

“Oh, that hasn’t happened yet?” Annabelle lazily quipped.

Marina had been sitting with her eyebrows cinced in thought. Her demeanor brightened and she hopped to the ground, walking over to Rosie. “Rosie, this isn’t camping- this is a garden! It follows different rules than what you’re used to.” She sent a mauve smile up to her, gesturing for her to lower her fingers from her teeth.

“In fact, it helps a lot of plants to pick off the flowering part. And there’s not really an ecosystem we can disrupt here. Trust me, Stella and I are from a farm, we know all about it!” The singer explained.

“Farms are…” Rosie clenched her hands. “My nightmare. They’re so close to what I’m used to, just… less fun.”

Marina chuckled. “They aren’t that bad! Give them a try.”

“It’ll be like camping in bizarro-world.” Annabelle offered.

Rosie whined out. She relaxed with defeat.

Cameron and Paulie burst through the entry of the clearing in a flurry of panting. Rosie was now sound-of-mind enough to bother noticing Cameron stumble her way towards their team.

The ghost hunter held out the bundle of roses, her shoulders slumped. “Shitty new, you guys…” Rosie, unseen by the others, squinted.

“Got ‘em!” Paulie proudly thrust her set of flowers toward the other Queens.

“Yes!” Jackson pumped his fists. Jupiter took notice of the pinpricks on her fingers, and Amelia sighed dreamily at the pastel pink blooms.

“We should make a romantic bouquet!” The actress said.

“Uh-huh,” Jennifer voiced without interest, lowering the list she was reading. “Or we could make it goth.”

Amelia scoffed. To her shock, Paulie and Jackson gasped in delight. “YEAAAH!! GOTH BOU-QUET, GOTH BOU-QUET!” They chanted.

“I guess it would be a cool first impression?” Jupiter mused.

“Uhhhh… did you guys even look at them-?” Amelia started to argue, but paused. A mischievous smile crossed her lips.

“Chris is- he’ s like- almost here.” Tony informed everyone. With much (unneeded) urging from Jackson, Jennifer began peeling off flower names that they wouldn’t be using.

In between the two tables, Chris stood with his fists planted on his waist. “THANKS for making me take that walk. God knows my rigorous professional workout plan isn’t cutting it.” He complained. “Alright gardeners, I’ll be taking those flowers you don’t want now.”

The Hatters sent Nadine to take their handful of paper slips, and Jupiter had offered to go for the Queens.

Chris held his palms out. “May I ask what you guys decided on? By which I mean you have to tell me ‘cause there’s no way I’m looking through this mess to figure out which ones aren’t in it?”

Nadie looked up at him happily as she placed the scrap clump in his hands. “We decided on a cute, bright bouquet!”

“Cool! Not what I asked.” Chris responded.

“We picked a bunch of blue and yellow flowers to go with this pink we got,” Rosie chimed in, flipping her wrist at the roses.

“-Still didn’t ask-”

“So we’re going to p- find- pic- grab some daffodils, snowdrops, forget-me-knots, and pansies.” Rosie read off their list.

“Alright. Cheshire Queens?”

“We decided on the exact opposite- a goth bouquet.” Jennifer said.

“Lit-er-ally I DON’T care!” Chris barked.

Jennifer’s teeth gleamed with pride. “I know. We chose to find orchids, hydrangeas, carnations, and…” Her tone faltered for once. “... pansies.”

“Erg- why did we pick that!?” Amelia whispered.

“How could I have known!” Jennifer snapped back.

Chris clamped down on the papers dropped into his hand, causing Jupiter to jump. “Too late! Guess you guys are gonna have to share!” He taunted. “I’ll leave you to it. Just remember, you can’t end the game unless you have all of your flowers. And once you do, you can end it whenever your bouquet is ready.” He sauntered away after giving those last reminders.

The teens were awkwardly stagnant around the tables after his absence, not mingling too far. Marina was the only one who verbally stated she and her sister were going to search around the immediate clearing first, an idea shared with the others as they started to shuffle around the shrubbery.

It didn’t take long for Jackson to get fidgety about this, however. “Where’s that bush!? I bet that special rose is inside it!” He sprung into the air and dashed off.

“I can- wrap you up so you don’t get- injured.” Jupiter fiddled with the edge of their coat as they spoke towards him, turning as he passed.

“No time-”

Paulie jumped into his path and caught him by his shoulders. “Ah ah ah!” She spun him around. “We don’t want you looking like me, now.” She waved one of her scar-littered arms in his face while she shoved him back.

He grumbled and stuck his heels in the dirt, but all it did was leave marks in the ground. Jupiter smiled awkwardly and dug out a roll of gauze from their inner pocket.

“Sooo....” Annabelle voiced on the Hatters side, rocking backwards. “It would make sense to split up, yeah?”

“I’ll go with the sisters.” Nadine piped in, motioning her thumb at the two in a nearby flowerbed. Avery and Erika seemed to hang their heads just a little.

Cameron grinned, brushing off her hands. “I’m down with splitting. But first, does that list come with any pictures? I’m not sure I know what a sno- ACK!”

She had tried to lean in to see the paper Rosie was holding, but Rosie shot two fingers into the girl’s hairline, pushing her away with a strained grimace of a smile. “Now, Cameron, I thought you were going to take care of the roses? That’s the first thing you ever told our team you were going to do, and you didn’t complete it! That’s not a very look.” She bent down, fingers still harshly pushing into her bangs. “How can you expect us to trust you with anything else? Find that last rose, and then you can help the rest of us.”

Cameron stumbled back, eyebrows cinched incredulously. The rest of the team behind Rosie were clearly shocked by the scene. Annabelle coughed into her fist, bringing Rosie back to focus. The others were able to look nonchalant in time before she turned around.

“I was thinking I would take off with you?” Annabelle asked, finger-gunning at the nature enthusiast.

Rosie cocked her head with a relaxed smile, as if nothing had happened. “I don’t mind the company one bit!”

They turned to leave, Annabelle throwing Cameron a confused shrug over her shoulder. The ghost hunter rubbed her forehead.

The twins kept to themselves at the outskirts; Nadine went over to the remaining sisters. Jennifer watched the Hatters more or less break off, and decided to speak up to her own team.

“Alright, we should start spreading around the island.” She looked around at the state of the Queens- Paulie idly leaning against a post caught her eye.

Paulie flicked her gaze to the goth as she drew near, a smirk crossing her face. “Yeah, I’ll be on that as soon as ’m sure Jackson’s all good. Don’t think Jups will catch him if he runs away.”

Jennifer peered over her shoulder at the two sitting on the ground. Jupiter tucked some gauze around Jackson’s fingers, and through his pout, he reluctantly said, “...At least I’ll look like a badass brawler.”

“Oh, I’m just kinda covering your hands. Do you want me to wrap you up like a boxer?” Jupiter offered.

He shook his platinum, choppy locks. “Nuh-uh, no way. ‘Wasting enough time as it is.”

Jupiter nodded and went back to work. Jackson squirmed.

“...Give me the fighter wrap…” He conceded to his inner desires. Jupiter began to undo the current bandages without question.

Jennifer placed her hands on her hips and sighed upwards. “What a fanatic.” She grumbled. “But it is a pretty good idea that I know I don’t want to do.” She relented, getting a chuckle out of Paulie.

Jennifer put her attention to the table instead. There she saw Amelia blissfully humming on a large rock, tapping the roses on the table surface like a secretary straightening her paperwork.

“...The hell are you doing?” She came up to her curiously.

Amelia regarded her with a smug pause. “You decided to make a dark, gloomy bouquet with these pretty pink flowers! It’ll take a bit to dye them a more fitting shade. Plus, someone needs to hold fort. Honestly, it should be obvious.” She flicked her wrist at the goth and reached for a bottle of dark dye with the other.

“Oh! Well in that case, get your ass up and actually help.” Jennifer barked. “You aren’t going to be making excuses to look busy, especially when all the rest of us are working.”

Amelia’s eyebrows rose lazily, not bothering to look up. “I have countless hours in set design and prop building, honey. Sorry to be frank, but nobody can do this better than me.” She briefly looked Jennifer in the eye. “It’s simply the wrong move to have me do anything else.”

Jennifer was definitely about to argue, but a light tap on her shoulder stopped her before she began.

“Ah-!” Roger startled. “I trust Amelia to know what she’s talking about.”

Jennifer groaned, rubbing her temples. “FINE. Let her have her way. Of course the little princess gets to be the only one sitting around- not surprised.” She stomped away, but not before yanking Roger by his upper arm. “You’re coming with me. I can’t risk you imprinting on anybody else.”

“Hey, wh- I don’t get what you’re saying-!” He stumbled to catch up with the arm she was dragging him away with.

Amelia watched them go with her sparkly blues. “Hm.” She cockily shrugged to herself.

*The Shed: Jennifer* “Any other day if somebody tried to pull that with me on a group project, I would have grabbed them over that table by their stupid done-up hair.” Jennifer was leaned over close to the camera, pointing at her long and loose dark hair, but meaning Amelia’s auburn brown, heavily curled locks. “Unfortunately I can’t trust anybody here yet to not see me as the bad guy in that situation.” *End*

”Ooh I’m just gonna sit here and decorate like it’s HARD,” Jennifer mocked under her breath as she trudged past Rosie and Annabelle on her way out. She ignored Roger telling her that it was Amelia who was doing that and not her.

“Oh! Decorating! That’s what this is in the end, isn’t it?” Annabelle stopped in her tracks and turned to Rosie excitedly. “Hey, you think I can hang out and plan that bouquet? I love this kind of ribbons and artsy junk.”

Rosie’s head sunk. “Better you than me.”

“Cool, won’t let you down.” Annabelle smiled confidently with a snap of her fingers. She went back to the table as Rosie left the clearing behind her.

Marina intently noticed the absence of their giant teammate. Much to Nadine’s annoyance, who’d been trying to get the sisters to leave with her for a while now. The black girl walked closer to Annabelle. “Annabelle! I’m so glad you stuck around.”

“Oh, yeah?” She lifted her head quizzically. “Did you need me somethin’? Haha.”

“I wanted to make a team huddle about Rosie. It looks like we’re all here except for her- good.” Marina explained. This instantly drew Cameron in. Marina flicked her eyes toward the conjoined twins, but considering how intense their staring was, figured they would listen in without invitation, anyway.

Once they began a true little huddle, she continued. “I think cursing is what’s setting Rosie off. For whatever reason, she looks really upset when swears or suggestive things are said.”

“Dang, she’s too tall for me to notice.” Annabelle said.

“Are you serious!? THAT’S why she snapped on me?” Cameron shouted.

Annabelle chuckled. “I guess I noticed that one.”

“I think we’ll go a lot further if we don’t say things that bother her so much.” Marina added. “If she’s the type to lash out like this.”

“That blows.” Cameron further complained.

Nadine crossed her arms under her shirt’s panda icon. “I don’t like tip-toeing around, and Rosie’s reaction earlier wasn’t acceptable, but I also want to be a functioning team. Keeping as many hands on deck for as long as possible just makes sense.”

“Y- Maybe for you guys, but I’m already on her bad side!” Cameron threw her hands up. “This is going to suck double for me.”

“We’re on your side if she keeps giving you trouble.” Nadine reassured her.

“Hmm…” Marina cupped her dark brown chin. “You could maybe avoid that by apologizing to her? It’ll be hard for her to be passive aggressive if you make it clear you didn’t want to hurt her.”

Cameron sputtered a bit. “Aw, she doesn’t really deserve an apology- I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“It’s not really about deserving....” Annabelle explained. “It’s about her chilling out and not bothering you or us anymore.”

“Er... also that even though you didn’t mean to, cursing upsets her! And unless you meant to upset her, you want her to know you feel bad that you did!” Marina added once again. “In fact, you’re in the right if you want an apology in return.”

“But that isn’t likely if you don’t give her one first.” Nadine said with an edge of finality. She gave Cameron a quirked brow.

She groaned, slumping over. “I don’t wanna… but fine, whatever. But uh- heheh- not until I find that rose. Don’t want her focusing on that the whole time, y’know?”

Stella had wandered a foot away quite some time ago, the twins never ceased staring, and the rest agreed in some fashion to keep it PG before breaking off.

The ghost hunter sighed a long sigh, pushing her hands down her face.

*The Shed: Cameron* “Maaan being the bigger person is disgusting!” She whined, lying on her back sprawled on the bench. “Like, it literally turns my stomach.” *End*

Behind her, Jackson jumped into the air loudly proclaiming, “Finally! Now to give that rose bush a piece of my miiiiind!!” He charged away.

Cameron perked up, whirling in the direction he had gone. Her purple eyebrows lowered in determination, silently taking after him.

Satisfied, Paulie stretched off the post she was leaning on. Her hands dropping behind her head, she studied the environment. A sight caught her eye in the distance.

Jupiter eyed the dark-skinned girl to see what she would do now that they were both free. Paulie started to skip forward, completely away from them. Jupiter figured.

As she passed by the twins, Paulie gave them a wink and told them the first inspirational thought that came to mind. “Knock ‘em dead!” Finally, she got to the Hare Hatter trio and looped her arms around the shoulders of Nadine and Stella, the latter tossing her off immediately.

*The Shed: Avery and Erika* They sighed.

“We knew it. They have no idea what to do with us.” Erika pouted.

“Once there stops being important stuff to do, we’ll undoubtedly get the typical million questions, which is fine.” Avery said, “But right now they would probably all rather have us out of the way.”

“I mean, it’s fine that they don’t know what we can do, but they could ask! Because heaven knows…” Erika trailed off.

“We can’t…” Avery tried to finish.

They two sighed harder, defeatedly saying in unison, “...Speak up ourselves.” *End*

“‘Eyo!!” Paulie greeted her anti-teammates, swinging off of Nadine. “Mind a bit more company?”

“You’re on the other team.” The tallest of the four stated, picking up one of Paulie’s fingers and moving it away.

“I knoooooow, doesn’t that suck ass!?! We got to take every opportunity to hang out with each other now!” Paulie pumped her fist. “Queens and hats and yadda yadda won’t stop ME from making friends, ha!”

Nadine opened her mouth to retort, but caught the sudden surge of positive energy from Marina and Stella, practically becoming two bright little suns. She pursed her lips silently instead.

“We love to make new friends! Stella, aren’t you a great friend?” Marina asked her sister, barely containing her excitement.

Stella lifted her fists over her head with a smile so wide it shut her eyes. “YEAH!”

“Ahhh…” Paulie vocalized a low shout. “You guys are jazzing me up, now. This is going to be great!” She peeked at Nadine’s smirk, and looped around her shoulder once more, whispering into the fabric over her ear, “I also didn’t want to hang out with Jenny Downer, y’know what I’m saying?”

“I get you.” Nadine reached for Paulie’s farthest shoulder and pushed her back onto her feet. “Now what were you saying Marina?”

“Oh, I was just letting you know that Stella-”

“YEAH!”

“-Was totally listening to us before. I know she wandered off, but to her, she doesn’t have to look focused in order to be paying attention. As long as she can hear you, she’s usually listening.”

“Not much for group huddles, then.” Nadine said warmly. “I’ll keep that in mind, not that I minded before.”

“Oh hey, I saw that!” Paulie piped in. “You guys looked super serious. Like, the most intense meeting for a bouquet I’ve ever seen.”

“We were actually talking about Rosie throwing a scene. It’s a pain already.” Nadine pinched the bridge of her nose. “She’s been acting hostile toward Cameron ever since she came back with the flowers.”

Paulie’s perkiness faltered, perspiration forming under the brim of her black bandana. “Th- that so? About not having all the- haha, yikes!”

*The Shed: Paulie* “My little sleight of hand wasn’t supposed to get anyone in trouble!” Paulie fretted. “Honest to godess I was just joshing! Now I feel like the world’s most bonafide douchebag. Give me my shithead degree! I deserve it!” *End* *III*

The albino cast member fidgeted. They tried to take note of their surroundings without annoying anyone else still around.

Their sibling was over at the Hatter’s table completely absorbed in the instruments at her disposal. Amelia was busy at theirs’. Paulie was just leaving their sight with three of the other team, and the conjoined twins had slipped off between blinks.

Jennifer had long since dragged Roger off to search higher into the island, and Jackson was retracing steps of their tour to find the double-headed rose. Jupiter sighed lightly, noticing the only person of the Queens that seemed to be idle, like them.

They cautiously approached Tony, who was leaning over some wildflowers. As soon as the shadow of their person crossed his sight, however, he shot his head up. He barely noticed Jupiter, saw that mostly everyone was gone, and made his way straight to the table. Jupiter only stuck around long enough to see Amelia look up at him. They rolled their shoulders, unsure, and made off in an unwandered direction alone.

#garden #garden chapters

8 notes · View notes

bellatrixobsessed1 · 5 years

Text

Mutilated Mannequin (Part 22)

Azula’s festival dress is form fitting and reaches just above her knees with a hem lined with a shimmery fringe of electric blue. Well aware that much of the festival and viewing party will take place outside, she finds herself the custom leggings that match the complexion of her skin. She slips them on and goes to fetch her necklace. She isn’t sure that she needs a necklace at all. The collar of her dress is eye-catching enough with its line of glimmering rubies. The entirety of the dress is adorned with many zigzagging fingers of that same electric blue. It starkly contrasts the bright red silk of the dress and glitters in the light.

She wears her hair up and spices it up with blue and red glitter. It is slightly curled. Her mother has worked the better part of the evening to style it for her before wandering off to check on Zuko--who, with the help of their father, should be in his tux.

She hasn’t yet seen her entire ensemble, but assumes that it suits her better than her homecoming dress did and she is glad that she hadn’t wasted wearing it then.

Azula closes stands before the mirror for a very long time with her eyes closed. The skin beneath her fingers is still so rough and somewhat lumpy. It alleviates her nervous anticipation none.

She lets a few more moments pass her by before she opens her eyes. She both wishes she hadn’t and wishes that she had done it sooner. She wishes mostly, that she would have looked at herself earlier, that she would have given herself time to get used to the damage dealt. Most of the scar tissue is gathered on her cheek left cheek; a long and thin raised line where the blade had once dragged. In some places there are still lumps. Small lumps, but bumps sizable enough to be noticed with ease. Strangely contrasting the lumps, that cheek is sunken. Far too thin. Thin enough to make her look almost malnourished.

Though the scar tissue is less on the right side of her face, she thinks that, that side looks profoundly more horrific. It is just as thin, perhaps moreso, and makes her wish that she still had her babyfat. At least then she had looked healthy. She considers for the first time, and all too late, that the puffiness that she had hated so much was perfectly natural.

Movement on that side is still terribly limited, rendering that half of her face slack. It is that slackness that seems to create the lack of symmetry.

Azula’s stomach lurches, she never did like asymmetry, it always made her headache. It instilled within her this unbearable desire to recreate the symmetry and her head would throb until she did. But, God, she can’t create symmetry on her face.

She wraps her arms around herself, leans against the wall, and slides to the floor. She had expected to dislike her new face, but she hadn’t expected it to make her feel physically sick. She lets out a small, gasping sob.

She should have waited until after the festival to ruin her night.

She feels queasy and anxious and suddenly it seems like a trick or a joke that Katara wants to spend any time with her, much less take her on a first date to a festival.

“Azula!” She hears her mother shout. She tries to pacify herself. “Katara is here.”

She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and stands up, her stance is unsteady and somewhat weak as she makes her way towards the door. By the time she reaches the staircase, Katara is already halfway up it. She greets Azula with a bright smile, those big blue eyes seeming to sparkle under the chandelier’s light. Her dress is more practical with long sleeves and a long train, made of navy blue velvet. It is simpler than Azula’s own having only a few faux diamonds at the neckline and a trim of fake white fur on the sleeves and at the hem. Still, the dress is lovely and it fits her better than any excess glitz could ever.

She wears her hair down in deep brown waves. Thin strands of her bangs are held back with two small, pearl hair combs. A few more pearls are weaved into her hair, Azula can’t tell if they are genuine.

“Hi Azula. You look nice tonight.”

Azula doesn’t believe that, not for a second. But she believes that Katara does and she says as much.

“Are you ready to go?” Katara asks.

“I need to put some makeup on.”

She must sound terribly glum. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Azula insists.

“Let me help you with your makeup?

Azula nods. “I hope that you’re amazingly skilled with makeup because…”

“I promise, it won’t take that much makeup to make you look beautiful.” She takes a limp Azula into a hug. Her head hangs over Katara’s shoulder as the girl rubs her back.

“You can say what you really think.” Azula informs softly. “I already know…”

“I am saying what I really think.” Katara holds her ground. “That dress looks nice on you.”

“It would look nicer on someone who has a flattering face to go with it.” She folds her arms over her chest.

Katara’s expression darkens and that enthusiastic glimmer in her eyes is gone. “I thought that you were done with that…”

“Yes. But then I actually saw what it looked like.”

Katara’s eyes go momentarily wide. “You mean that tonight is the first time you’ve seen your face since the surgery?”

Azula gives a slow and forlorn nod.

“Oh, Azula.” She almost sounds like her mother. “What are we going to do with you?” She adds a small and sad laugh.

“Fix my face?” Azula mumbles. “It’s gross.”

Katara takes her by the shoulders and moves her so that she can look into her eyes. “I don’t want to change you, Azula. I don’t have any trouble looking at your face. Sokka doesn’t either. Chan and Tylee… and Mai. I think that you’re the only person who thinks that it looks gross.” Before Azula can open her mouth Katara adds, “Jet’s opinion doesn’t count and Yue’s we can consider but…”

“It’s questionable.” Azula finishes she forces a laugh. “I’m skeptical of anything Yue says.” She stands and beckons for Katara to follow her to her bedroom.

“I promise, you look fine. Your face doesn’t bother anyone that matters.”

“It bothers me.”

“I think that you just have to get used to it.” Katara guesses. She picks up two lipsticks. “Which one do you want?”

Azula points at the bright red, Katara is already applying it when it occurs to her that such a bold choice in color will draw unwanted attention to her face. She hopes that the lipstick will be bright enough to keep their focus on her lips rather than her ravaged cheeks.

“You don’t understand.” She says after Katara swaps out the lipstick for some eyeliner. Katara quirks a brow and Azula takes that as her cue to continue. “Look at my room.” She gives her girlfriend a chance to take it in. It’s immaculate cleanliness and the tedious and orderly fashion in which all of her belongings are arranged from the alignment of her shelves, dressers, and bed to the collection of trophies on her dresser and crystals on her nightstand. Even the stuffed pandas on her bed and the fairy lights wrapped around the bed posts are perfectly straight. There is an impeccable balance about the room. “It’s all symmetrical or at least balanced. Everything is where it is supposed to be.”

“I can tell.” Katara replies. “You’d hate Sokka’s room.” She dabs some eyeshadow gently atop Azula’s lids.

“I don’t like when things are lopsided or out of place. It hurts my head. It’s like this itch that won’t go away until I straighten whatever it is up. I can’t do that with my face. It’s literally going to drive me insane.”

Katara puts the makeup brushes aside and takes Azula’s hands. “You’re going to be fine.” She looks around the room. “How about this, you can wear one of those masquerade half-masks to the festival. You family has crazy cash, I’m sure that your dad could buy you a bunch of those masks until you’re comfortable looking at your face again.” She seems to grow more excited with each word. “It could be your thing! I don’t know anyone else who spices up their school uniform with a mask. I’m sure Pathik would make an exception to the dress code for you. He likes you.”

“I guess that, that could work.” Azula replies. She picks up the mask that came with her dress and slips it over her face.”

“But since it was my idea I want you to do something for me.”

Azula rolls her eyes. “What?”

“Just promise me that you’ll look at your face, without the mask, at least once a day. Even if it’s just when you brush your teeth or comb your hair in the morning.”

“Perhaps.”

“You have to get used to seeing yourself like this. I don’t want you to have to cover your face forever.” She pauses. “I want you to appreciate yourself for who you are. For that to happen, you’re going to have to…”

“Accept it first.” Azula finishes. She inhales deeply and removes the mask once more. “I’m still going to steal your mask idea though.”

“You really like attention, don’t you?”

“I like to...make myself known.” She clarifies. “I feel like people will remember the person who comes to school wearing a different mask every other day.”

“Every other day?”

“Yes.” Azula says. “I’ll tolerate looking at the asymmetry for a day and then I’ll give myself a break from that. Is that a problem.”

“No!” Katara says quickly. “That’s...that’s actually more than I thought you’d be willing to do.”

“You thought that I was going to be dramatic about this didn’t you?”

“You were definitely dramatic. ‘It’s literally going to drive me insane’.” Zuko mocks from in the doorway. Azula chucks her mask at him. “Jesus.” He rubs his arm, that goofy grin never leaves his face.

“I thought that you’d want to take baby steps, is all.” Katara answers.

Azula crinkles her nose. “If I’m going to do something, I’m going to put a real effort in.” She turns back to Zuko. “Where’s Mai?”

“Fussing with Tom-Tom again. You two are probably going to have to meet me there.”

“You’re our ride, dumb dumb.” Azula collects her mask and finds her favorite perfume; a rose fragrance in a dragon shaped bottle. “Do you want a spray.”

Katara holds up a different perfume with a seashell bottle, “I’d like to try this one.”

“Go on.”

While she is there, she might as well start now; she takes another breath and spares the mirror a look as she gives the perfume bottle a few pumps.

.oOo.

“It’s beautiful!” TyLee gasps. “It’s been such a long time since I really looked at the stars.”

“Your gymnastics season is almost over, yes?” Azula asks.

“Yeah, unfortunately.”

“You can follow Katara and I to the astronomy club.”

“Oh yeah! I could do that!” She replies.

“Do you guys want to try candle making?” Zuko cuts in, he jabs his thumb in the direction of an activity stall.

Mai shrugs, “I’ll tag along.”

“I like scented candles.” TyLee tugs Chan towards the stall.

Azula exchanges a look with Katara, “do you want to make one together.”

“I’d like that.” She smiles.

Azula finds that she likes working with the wax, it warms her hands as she shapes the candle. Katara had insisted that they use blue wax and let Azula pick the shape. Ultimately she decides to make a simple pillar candle. She fades different shades of blue wax into each other while Katara etches in stars of silver glitter. It smells of blueberry and ocean spray. Both Yue and TyLee have created candles of pink; TyLee’s is a bubblegum scented pastel and Yue’s a bright pink, peach smelling abomination. It grows worse still when Kei Lo adds a touch of red apple.

Expectedly, Mai insists on a black candle that smells of licorice and cherry.

“Where’s your brother anyways?” Azula asks.

“He and Suki wanted to do a little holiday shopping before coming here, that’s why I told them to drop me off at your place.”

“And Aang?”

“I think that he and Teo are trying to convince Toph to come. She says that she gets tired of pointing at random spots in the sky and claiming to see aliens.”

“She knows that there are other things to do here, right?”

Katara shrugs and then takes a step back to look at their candle. “I think that we’re done.”

Azula moves it to the drying rack to be picked up at the candle lighting hour. Katara takes Azula’s hand, “why aren’t you wearing gloves?” She asks.

“They don’t match my dress.”

“Your hands are freezing!” She exclaims. “Take my gloves or let’s go get a cup of hot chocolate. Geeze, my mom would kill me if I came out here without gloves!”

“I’m not cold.” Azula denies.

“You are too.” Katara huffs. “You’re shivering.”

Azula gives a soft and stubborn pout. “I’m fine.” She insists, her words accented by teeny puffs of fog that do little to help her case. The smoky wisps trail in brief bursts towards the sky. She watches them drift, fading away before they can even reach the strings of soft gold lights that connect one food stall to the next. The strings of light bob in the same snowy gust that shakes the paper lanterns. She supposes that the atmosphere is very pleasing. Beneath her feet, the ground is a mess of star shaped confetti and silver glitter, not that the glitter is necessary with the natural sparkle of the snow accumulating on the ground.

Every twelve feet or so is a small fire where people gather and warm their hands. Katara is pulling her in the direction of one of them. She rustles around in her oversized backpack and pulls out a blanket. “Here, take this.” She wraps it around Azula and steals a look at the nearest food stall. Azula slips her a handful of cash. She gives Azula a brief hug and makes her way to the stall.

Azula sits there listening to the crackle and pop of the flames. She supposes that she is happy to be wrapped in the blanket. Her hands were beginning to grow red. Katara returns with two steaming cups of hot chocolate. “S’mors?” She offers, gesturing to the sticks.

“Yes, that sounds nice.”

As Azula sips her drink, Katara twirls two marshmallows over the flames.

.oOo.

Azula is rather quiet and Katara has trouble gauging her mood. She is fairly certain that the girl is content. At the very least, her teeth aren’t chattering anymore. Katara doesn’t think that she has ever seen someone get so cold so fast.

She watches the girl tinker with her telescope and then with her own. If only having one free hand is slowing her down, she sure doesn’t show it. Azula looks up from her work and Katara can finally gauge her emotions. She does look rather elated, more so than Katara has seen her look in a while.

They are only minutes away from Sozin’s comet passing. Katara looks down from the top of the hill; from top to bottom it is alit with hundreds of flickering candles. A sea of twinkling flames and thin wisps of smoke.

“We’re all set.” Azula notes.

Katara can’t imagine how thrilled the girl must be to finally see the spectacle that gave her family such an esteemed name.

“Sozin’s comet will be the first to fall and then the rest of them should appear.” Azula remarks with more enthusiasm than Katara has ever heard in her voice. Every now and again she leans into the telescope. Katara decides that it is best to make her way over to her own.

It happens quickly; a flash of brilliant orange in the sky as the comet flares into view. It is humbling to view such an old object. One that very well could have been around since the dawn of man. From such a distance it looks so small. Even still it is beautiful to behold with its fiery tail and the trail of dust and debris it leaves behind. Katara follows it with her telescope until it dips below the horizon and out of view.

It was such a fleeting moment, but then, the most glorious moments usually are. A second or two of splendor, a minute at most and then all is ordinary once more. She supposes that the universe knows that beauty is best appreciated when it is a rarity to be seen. Even so, the moment isn’t entirely over.

Just as Azula noted, the sky becomes crowded with many falling stars. A rain of them that leave silver-blue lines in their wake like contrails of an aeroplane.

“Wow this is…”

“Magnificent.” Azula finishes.

Katara thinks that there is no better word.

She feels arms wrap around her torso and a blanket falling over her shoulders. Azula isn’t quite tall enough to rest her had in the crook of Katara’s neck so she presses her mostly healed left cheek against her back.

Content to finally see Azula initiating physical contact for once, Katara doesn’t move. Not until it occurs to her that her girlfriend is slightly trembling again.

“Let me warm you up?” She offers.

Azula takes a step back. Katara takes her blanket and wraps it around herself. She then takes Azula into a hug and wraps the blanket around the both of them. Azula peers up at her, snow clings to her lashes. Katara never realized how small the girl was until then. She gives Azula a cheerful smile.

The comets still burst overhead, she can see them reflected in Azula’s eyes as the girl stares up at them. She doesn’t want to interrupt her viewing, but at the same time, she craves their first real kiss. So she cups Azula’s less delicate cheek and leans in.

Azula doesn’t flinch or draw back as Katara had anticipated. The girl closes her eyes and lets Katara guide her through what she assumes is the girl’s first real kiss. Katara can’t tell if Azula’s face is rosey with the cold or because she has never been kissed before.

No matter, she seems to be at peace.

She sniffles.

“Let’s look at the comets for a few more minutes and then get inside before you get yourself sick.” Katara suggests.

“I’m fine.” Azula insists, but she doesn’t protest when Katara begins to pack away their equipment and she doesn’t put up a fight when Katara begins tugging her towards the banquet hall.

Katara herself is relieved to be out of the cold, she was beginning to shiver herself. She watches Azula wander over to the chocolate fountain where she greets TyLee who has a rather absurd amount of chocolate covered fruit already gathered. Chan says something and the three of them laugh. She wishes that she could have heard it but she is thrilled to see Azula in such good spirits, especially after seeing her look so dismal and beat down.

“She seems happy.” Mai notes.

Katara nods.

“What did you do to her?” Zuko flashes an amused grin.

“I gave her some hot chocolate and a blanket...and then a kiss.”

“Hey, thanks for doing this for her.” Zuko says. “She really needed a good night like this. Even if she doesn’t tell you, it means a lot to her.”

“I know.” Katara smiles. “I can tell.”

#Avatar #Azula #Katara #Azutara #TyLee #Zuko #Mai #Fanfiction

5 notes · View notes

lacquerware · 6 years

Text

Mega Man should stop presenting its flaws as indispensable features

When I was fifteen, I learned to play the song Malagueña on the piano. It was a laborious project; the culmination of nine years of piano lessons under the tutelage of Mrs. Diane Miller, and the main event for her upcoming student showcase.

This arrangement of the piece was a seven-pager, and somewhere around page four was a problem phrase I kept playing wrong, a rapid two-handed run up the keyboard with tricky fingering. I got to a point where I could play flawlessly up to that phrase, only to flub the phrase every time. Each time I flubbed it, my teacher would stop me and send me back to page 2. “You have to perfect that phrase,” she would say, “so try it again, but first play the preceding two pages, so it’s no longer fresh in your mind by the time you get to it again.” Alas, this would result in more flubs, and after three flubs in a row she would send me back to the beginning of the entire piece. “You’re still not getting it,” she’d say. “So I think we should run through the stuff you’ve already mastered one more time.” I would glance at her, trying to read her intent, and she would stare back at me, bug-eyed and malevolent.

The above story is false,because Mrs. Miller was a kind, intelligent, and non-insane person. Like all people of that description, she understood that you don’t work out a problem area by indiscriminately repeating ALL PRACTICE. When you get one problem wrong on a math quiz, you don’t review the entire textbook. You don’t work on your free throws by drilling layups and then also free throws. You can’t learn to poach an egg by toasting English fucking muffins all day. To suggest otherwise is an act of hostility.

Mega Manhas always carried this hostility. The game dishes out its challenges in neat little screen-sized units, but penalizes your failures with gratuitous setbacks, often requiring you to replay entire stages from the beginning. This makes learning inordinately tedious. You have to retread every yard for every yard gained.

I guess this is a relic of the arcade age, when games were designed with the express intent of punishing players—unless they paid up. Indeed, most of Mega Man’s NES contemporaries inherited this same feature in the form of finite lives and scarce checkpoints, but it never made much sense on home consoles. You could argue that it prolonged the lifespan of each game, but that only held true for the masochists who continued to tolerate this torturous system rather than reallocate all that wasted time to more fruitful pursuits like, I dunno, learning to play piano or poach an egg.

I’ve always liked Mega Man, but it was already starting to feel like a tired concept as early as Mega Man IV. I was about eight years old by then, and starting to catch on that they were running out of boss motifs. Pharaoh Man felt like a red flag.

Mega Man has since proliferated into a multi-faceted franchise spanning more than 120 titles and three decades (and for the record, I’ve played through almost all of them), but it’s never really dispensed with its ancient baggage. Mega Man X brought new visual flare while diversifying the core action; Mega Man Zero imbued the series canon with new consequence and cool factor; Mega Man ZX fused the classic gameplay with the Metroidvania template; but all of these spin-offs continued to punish, punish, punish, to gatekeep their content from the series’ own consumers to no certain end.

When Capcom revealed Mega Man 9, I was momentarily taken with the nostalgia of it, but quickly lost interest when I realized that Capcom had no intent of evolving the series’ concepts, even in basic quality-of-life ways. Lives and weapon energy were still pointlessly commodified, checkpoints sadistically scarce. They’d even removed what few innovations the series had seen to date, such as the slide and the charge shot. Nor did the roster of Robot Masters appear any more inspired than the cast of rejects that had turned me off five installments prior. Capcom had had seventeen years to think about it and all they’d come up with were lame analogs of pastbosses, like Tornado Man and Magma Man. It’s like they thought they hadto retread the same shit beat for beat or people would get confused. Even their ace, Splash Woman, was just another in a long line of water-themed bosses.

Mega Man 10 as a follow-up was downright depressing. Strike Man, Pump Man, and Chill Man are what you get when you realize yesterday was the deadline and all you’ve got is a pen and a cocktail napkin. I can’t fathom that a bunch of game designers sat around brainstorming ideas for Mega Man fucking 10 and someone was like, “Hmm, what about an ice-themed boss.”

Now we have Mega Man 11, the long-awaited, belligerently-demanded revival of the MM franchise after some eight years of dormancy. After playing the demo, I find myself wondering why. Why are we here? Why is Mega Man 11 Capcom’s answer after saying no to Mega Man for eight years? It’s the SAME.

Yes, it looks and sounds nicer and there’re a couple new mechanics—which are themselves comically uninspired takes on the ancient tropes of bullet time* and Devil Trigger—but I’m mystified at how unchanged the formula still is after eight years of seemingly adamant dismissal of the entire franchise, let alone the thirty-one years they could’ve been critically examining it. Do they realize that other developers have been building on this genre since the eighties?

*Weird side note: The tutorial for Mega Man’s new “Speed Gear” ability explains that the gear makes you “move so fast that everything else seems slow,” but in practice Mega Man moves just as slowly as everything else. So it’s not Mega Man who’s moving fast, it’s. . . the player?

Punishment as “Difficulty”

In the Block Man (lol) stage of the demo, there’s a section where you have to jump and slide through elaborate platforms as they scroll toward you, an insta-kill grinding device nipping at your heels all the while. The third platform has very peculiar collision detection, such that your head bonks against the empty space you’re supposed to jump through, seemingly rendering the challenge impossible. This is several screens into the stage but still prior to the first checkpoint (on Normal mode), so every time this platform killed me, I had to start the entire stage over. After about fifteen tries, I discovered that the collision doesn’t trigger if you’re holding left as you make the jump—an illogical thing to do unless you’ve died so many times you’ve run out of other ideas. By the time I cracked this idiosyncrasy, I’d already spent close to an hour replaying the preceding screens over and over for no reason. Why is this still a thing? This is punishment, not difficulty. It contributes to the challenge only in that it makes the experience less fun, “challenging” your resolve to continue playing. Think of all the origami you could be learning. All the old ladies you could be helping cross streets.

The Mega Man games are quite clever in the way they parse out the platforming and shooting in little bite-sized units. Each screen is essentially an action puzzle for you to solve. It would be so logical for each screen break to be a checkpoint, because each screen break isa checkpoint—the start of the next challenge. Games like Super Meat Boy do this, meting (meating?) out their challenges in bite-sized, infinitely repeatable increments. Nobody accuses Super Meat Boy of being too easy because it doesn’t make you repeat the shit you’ve already completed when you fail at the current task. If you wantthat kind of punishment, no one’s stopping you from resetting the game.

Mega Man 11 adds a “Casual” mode which increases the number of checkpoints, but it’s still annoying to me that the more punishing model is treated as the norm while the more logical distribution of checkpoints is treated as a concession. Soulsplayers will tell me to “git gud,” but that’s why I led with the piano analogy. I got damn good at Malagueña, and I still had time left over to do my homework and play video games.

Special Weapons

Using your Special Weapons in Mega Man games is like spending the money you might need to pay rent on stuff you could be getting for free through your well-connected friend Dave. The trial-and-error pairing of the right weapon and the right boss is such an integral part of Mega Man’s progression that any other use of anyspecial weapon becomes a high-risk gamble—unless, of course, you just Google the answers.

I understand the need to impose limits on the more powerful weapons, but games have figured out countless better ways to do this in the thirty-one years since Mega Man 1. Cool-down times. Cool-down meters. Recovery proportional to damage inflicted. Recovery proportional to damage received. Recovery by way of skillful attack, à laMetal Gear Rising. Enemy fire absorption à la Alien Soldier and Radiant Silvergun. Ranger X on the Sega Genesis had solar-powered special weapons; why not steal that idea for this game’s allegedly solar-powered protagonist?

Instead, even in its eleventh installment in two-thousand-goddamn-eighteen, Mega Man still employs an RNG-based item drop system. Replenishing your meter is as simple and menial as finding an enemy spawn point and brainlessly standing and shooting until an enemy happens to drop the energy you need. Don’t forget to cycle over to the gun you want to replenish, or else the battery is wasted, as if Mega Man just eats it by mistake.*

*Later games in the series introduced the Energy Balancer, a purchasable item which automatically refills the weapon that needs refilling even if you don’t have it selected. Why is that a thing you have to buy? Why put a fundamental improvement to the game behind a paywall, virtual or otherwise?

Meanwhile, MM11still employs the same bizarre meter continuity between deaths as past installments. Each death means repeating sections of the stage without reacquiring any previously spent meter, effectively creating a difficulty vortex—the harder this game is, the harder it gets. There was a ruthlessly capitalistic logic to this in the arcade days,but the Mega Man series has never been coin-operated (with a few obscure exceptions). It hasnevermade sense that, often, the best strategy is to voluntarily leap to your death over and over to force a Game Over, just to restart with a full weapon meter as an alternative to the tedium of refilling it manually or facing the boss without it. What is the explanation for this meter continuity in the first place? Are we supposed to think Mega Man is repeatedly exploding and materializing but he can’t materialize a few extra shots from his bubble gun while he’s at it? There’s a multi-faceted idiocy to this whole system.

Rush

Capcom ought to take a long, hard look at Rush, Mega Man’s transforming robot dog companion. It’s hard to believe the same guy who invented a fully autonomous solar-powered robot boy couldn’t design a dog-shaped spring that runs on renewable energy. Special weapons are one thing, but why does Rush have an exhaustible meter? He’s a fucking spring. It makes no sense as a narrative detail nor as an element of game design. What exactly are the designers trying to limit? Your ability to spam high jumps? The logistics of the Rush Coil already do that; you have to set him up like a lawn ornament and he peaces out after a single bound. He’s unspammable, even with a full bar. To begin with, there are rarely that many useful opportunities to use the Rush Coil within a single stage, and energy power-ups are infinite as long as you’re willing to endure the chore of finding them, so it’s not as though the game is challenging you to budget your resources—it’s just discouraging you from searching for those meaningful jump opportunities in the first place. It’s driving you to Google.

Bosses

The Robot Masters have always received special star treatment in the Mega Man games but rarely been very interesting as boss fights. You know the deal: dodge the dizzying hail of projectiles in an empty square room while desperately scrambling to land enough hits with the weakness weapon before you die. Considering all the fanfare these bosses get (mug shot, intro screen, and now reveal trailers), most of them feel kind of interchangeable. Most of them have nearly identical silhouettes and shoot functionally redundant projectiles in superficially different shapes. Every gun is a Lucky Charms marshmallow.

The boss fights actually do seem a little more interesting in Mega Man 11—Block Man in particular stands out with his mid-fight transformation into a hulking colossus. I’d hoped to see more of this in future Mega Mans—fights that evolve and really set each Robot Master apart as a distinct embodiment of its corresponding motif—so maybe they’re onto something this time. Still, it’s a little ridiculous that this game has yet another fire boss, electricity boss, cold boss, and bomb boss. Why are we still here?

Before the mob comes for me, I want to stress that there’s always been lots to love about Mega Man, and I’m glad Capcom is investing in the IP again. I just hope this is the start of a long-term effort to reevaluate and improve the series, not another short-sighted extension of a tired status quo.

#mega man 11 #mm11 #capcom #games #video games #videogames #gaming #reflections #demo #games writing #criticism #rant

21 notes · View notes

hydrus · 3 years

Text

Version 437

youtube

windows

zip

exe

macOS

app

linux

tar.gz

I had a good week mostly fixing bugs and optimising. It will take a couple of seconds to update this week.

all misc this week

I reduced a heap of UI lag on clients that have pages with a lot of collected (like 'collect by creator') media. If you often have five or ten thousand files collected and you noticed your client was getting choppy just when running some downloaders, I hope this improves things. Let me know how you get on!

I started real work on multiple local file services. Most of it is boring behind the scenes stuff, but as part of it, I overhauled the trash system this week. A heap of logic is improved, it is ready for more than one 'my files' service, and now hydrus remembers when files are deleted. Delete timestamps have never been recorded clientside, and unfortunately we cannot recover old information retroactively, but it is stored for all deletes from now on. Whenever the client wants to say 'this file was deleted', it should now have 'at an unknown time' or a nicer '3 days ago' suffix.

A second neat thing with the improved deleted files storage is I hope in the nearish future to let you search deleted files. This is a rare, clever query, like 'all known files', but there will be some kind of button you can press to flip your 'my files' or 'all local files' search to go through what has ever been removed from them. 'system:file service' will get similar improvements.

To reduce confusion, I renamed some hydrus network concepts across the program. The 'access key' (secret password for account), 'account key' (account identifier), and 'registration key' (one time token to create an account) are now known as 'access key' (i.e. no change), 'account id', and 'registration token'. There is more work to do here, particularly improving server setup and account management workflows to suit the user (rather than my technical ease), so I will keep at it.

In a related topic, the PTR is updating its accounts. The public account is moving more towards a 'read-only' account, and accounts that can upload siblings and parents (and perhaps tag petitions, eventually) will be individual to you and freely auto-creatable in manage services. This is mostly an attempt to make janitorial decisions easier and more accurate, since at the moment everything on that side is merged due to the shared account. Permissions have not been used much in hydrus network yet, and the workflows and user notifications here are bad and buggy. Please bear with me as I iron out the problems and make it all nicer to use.

full list

misc:

hydrus now keeps a track of when files were deleted! this information has never been recorded clientside, and it is sadly not retroactively recoverable, but it is stored for all deletes from now on. on occasion, when hydrus says 'this was deleted from xxx', it will now have 'at an unknown time' or a nice '3 days ago' string attached. it will take a few seconds to update this week as the new table data is created

the 'trash' panel on review services now has an 'undelete all' button

fixed a typo error in manage services when auto-creating a service account when more than one type of account can be created

the thread watcher page now sorts the status column secondarily by next check time (previously, equal status would sort alphabetically by subject as a fallback secondary sort)

I have renamed some network concepts across the program. before we had access keys, account keys, and registration keys--now we have access keys (secret password for account), account ids (identifier for account that jannies may need), and registration tokens (one-time token used to create a new account). I hope this reduces some confusion

reduced some overhead when fetching media results for a search, and when refreshing their tags on major content updates

fixed a 'no such table: mem.temp_int_hash_id_1'-style database error state that could persist for 30 seconds or more after certain rare rollbacks

fixed the FlipFlip link html in the client api help

fingers crossed, I fixed that bad Applications shortcut in the new macOS release

fixed a couple more instances of 'pulsing' progress gauges. now they should be blank

more efficient updates in sessions with collected media:

several updates this week should reduce client UI lag when the session contains any pages with a lot of collected media, particularly when you are also running several downloaders (which spam all sorts of content updates across the client):

the content update pipeline now tests collections for their files before content processing, and now filters down to process just the updates in a group that apply

collections' post-content-update internal data regeneration routine now has more options for fine regen (e.g. no need for tags recalc if the update was 'archive file'), ignores updates for urls and notes (for which it maintains no summary), and only falls back to 'just regen everything' on file location changes

the 'selection tags' taglist now retains intelligent memory of its previous selection through collect/uncollect events, which reduces collect/uncollect lag on well-tagged files significantly

boring multiple local file services stuff:

I cleaned a bunch of old hardcoded references to 'my files' and related code. it is not very interesting, but there are a few hundred references to clean up and convert to a system that supports 1-to-n local services, and this week I started hacking away, mostly presentation stuff, labels on menus and so on

your 'my files' now has a separate deletion record to the 'all local files' domain. its count shows in 'review services', and for the moment will just be 'all local files' plus the count in trash, but this will become more important when you can have multiple 'my files'

behind the scenes re-jiggering means that the deletion record now records deletion time and original import time. delete and undelete transitions are neater as a result

logically, files are now generally no longer moved to the trash nor undeleted from there, they instead fall there when they are in 'all local files' but no longer in any local domain, and are undeleted back to a specific service. a bunch of awkwardness is cleaned up, and import/delete/undelete content updates are regeared and ready for multiple local file services

a whole bunch of little things have been fixed and changed behind the scenes. I cleaned file service code in general as I went. examples of little things fixed:

- a 'delete and do not keep a deletion record' action now correctly does not change the cached number of deleted files as reported in review services

- the 'clear deletion record and try again' 'remove from trash' component now uses a unified and improved and UI-updating 'untrash' database action, with correct service count changes and UI-side status changes

- the 'clear deletion record and try again' action on downloader import queues now handles mixes of actually deleted files and files just in trash more neatly

- in the very odd situation that you are looking at a non-local file on 'all known files' and it is then imported using 'archive on import', its thumbnail and metadata now fade in correctly as archived

added some unit tests to test the new file delete/undelete transitions

cleaned up a bunch of hacky old db SELECT code

next week

Next week is a 'medium size' job week. I would like to try putting some time into the ancient image rendering pipeline and related systems like previous/next file prefetch. The basic media viewer has been jank and bad at zooming for too long. I am not sure I can make it beautiful, but I will try to clean some things up.

Otherwise, I am afraid I have fallen behind on some messages and other administrative work. It would be nice to put some time aside to catch up on replies, clean up my immediate todo lists, and triage some priority lists, but we'll have to see. I have had trouble recently doing anything but slinging out code.

#release

0 notes

ploppythespaceship-a · 7 years

Text

How to Make Icons (And GIF Icons) Using GifCam and Photoshop

Another tutorial for @rumdaydreams as well as anyone else who would find this useful. GifCam is a wonderful program that can create GIFs from a screen recording, and with very little tweaking you can use it to make lots of RP icons in one go.

So let’s get started! (Note: I am writing this as though you’ve never touched either program before in your life.)

Step one: download and install GifCam from here.

Step two: open your video and find the part you want to record. Again, I’ll be using Reg Barclay from Star Trek because I like his face. I literally just opened Netflix to to correct episode and found a spot I liked.

Step three: open up GifCam and resize it to record as much of the screen as you would like. It’s probably easier to crop in Photoshop after the fact, so better to record too much than too little.

(Note: my monitor resolution is a bit weird so your GifCam buttons shouldn’t be that awkwardly small…)

Step four: GifCam settings. The little drop down button next to record has some frame rate options. If you’re just making icons, 10 is probably the best bet, but if you want GIFs as well, I’d go for 16. 33 will probably make things weird, and it can’t record for as long, so I would avoid that one.

Step five: Play the video! Hit record when you get to the spot you’d like, and stop recording whenever you get to the end of it. As a note, it’s again better to get too much than too little, as you can easily get get rid of things in Photoshop, so it’s alright if your recording runs a bit longer than you want. Hit save when you’re done to get your new GIF.

Step six: Open your GIF in Photoshop.

The row of images at the bottom? That’s the timeline window, and it’s your new best friend. Also your enemy. If you hit the play button you can watch your GIF.

Step seven: Clear out any frames that just don’t need to be there. If you look at mine, you’ll see that I recorded too long and have some of Geordi in my GIF, from frames 59 to 66.

I like Geordi well enough, but I want Reg icons. So I’m going to select all the frames with Geordi, and click the trash can icon to delete them.

And now they’re all gone.

Step seven: Convert to a video timeline. This may seem counter intuitive, but let me assure you that making edits to a video timeline is 30000x easier than edits to a frame animation. To do this, click the three lines in the top right corner and select Convert to video timeline.

Aaaahhhh!!

What happened!? Why is this so weird!?

Don’t panic. It’s okay. The video is doing what it’s supposed to, but every single frame is still a separate layer. To fix that…

Step eight: make all of your frames into a single smart object. Go to the layers panel in the bottom right and select all your frames (I usually click the one on the bottom, scroll to the top, and shift + click the one on the top). Make sure you get all of your frames, even ones you might have deleted from the animation in the previous step. Then right click and select convert to smart object.

And…

Ah. Isn’t that so much nicer? Play through and make sure it all looks the way you want.

Step nine: cropping and any other effects you’d like. For this, I’m going to refer you to this post I already made for how I usually do edits. Everything should work exactly the same. So now mine has gone from this…

To this…

Important note. Scroll through the entire video timeline and make sure that all effects layers are the same length as the GIF itself.

Here, you can see my adjustment layers are all longer than Layer 66 (my original GIF). Adjusting the length is very easy, though – just select the end of the track and drag it until it matches length.

Much better.

Step ten: export the frames. For this, go to File > Export > Render Video.

The options look like this.

Important things:

Name. Obviously, what you want the files to be called. Photoshop will automatically add numbers to the end of this.

Select Folder. Where you want the files to go. Please put them somewhere you’ll remember, there are few things more annoying than not knowing where the program sent them.

Photoshop Image Sequence. If this says “Adobe Media Encoder” – change it. You want to export an image sequence, not a video file.

Frame Rate. Essentially how many images you want to export. If you have this set too high, you’ll get a lot of essentially identical icons, so set this to your preference.

And when you’re ready, hit render in the top right corner!

Now, if I go to where I set these icons to save to…

Wow! Look at all those! Obviously, some are so similar that they’re redundant, but you can always clear out the ones you don’t want after the fact.

Step eleven (optional): if you would like a GIF icon as well, it’s incredibly easy to do these both at the same time.

The little gray knobs at the top are In and Out. Essentially start and stop. You can drag them to wherever you’d like and play through to watch your GIF icon. Then go to File > Export > Save For Web.

Here is what those options look like. (Again, pardon my funky computer resolution, it likely won’t be so crowded on the bottom for you).

Most of these options should be fine 95% of the time. But you always need to check looping options.

Switch that from Once to Forever, otherwise your GIF will play once and then… stop. And never play again.

Then hit Save and select where you want it to go. And voila. A GIF icon.

And that’s how to make a whole bunch of icons (and GIF icons) at once without getting screenshots or even downloading the video! I hope this helps you out.

#mine #photoshop tutorial #icon tutorial

30 notes · View notes

linkspooky · 7 years

Note

Vol 13 showed characters are selfish and the people who are self righteous get in trouble.

Pride does come right before the fall, after all.

That being said, while I think the Moon Arc is to render all of these characters at their lowest point, as the violence that dragon is now showing is a clear manfiestation of Kaneki’s Id, and his long repression of wanting to harm humans, but considering himself too morally above it all to do it.

Kaneki’s odd want to value life, but also his refusal to care about masses of individuals who weren’t directly related to him in some way, yet positioning of himself as their savor regardless. Basically, a bunch of contradictions folding in on each other and coming out as his darkest desires made manifest. The Id. I desire.

The same way that Mukade itself was created by Kaneki forcefully separating his kind side that he showed to Hinami, and his violent side that he showed to the other ghouls around him, and thus repressing himself again and again until it all came flowing out at once.

That being said, while this arc is a really natural and thematic consequence to the over 40 chapters of repression and building up we’ve been going through (really this has been one long football toss in terms of buildup and payoff), I’m not sure Volume 13 counts as consequences to everyone.

Goat is the main failure of this revolution yes, but Kurona, Seidou, Akira, Amon all split off for their own selfish desires and refused to see the bigger picture. Urie, Saiko, the rest of the CCG not currently under Juuzou’s wing, also participated and enabled Furuta’s bloodshed to some extent. It would be weird to see them in this final culling of consequences to escape scott free, or even to be allowed to be the heroes in stopping Kaneki, when it is their own refusal to empathize with ghouls that allowed the situation to exacerbate to this point.

I mean Kaneki did a lot of things wrong, but at least he kind of sort of created Goat with the idea of helping ghouls in mind. Which is, much more than can be said for the other half of the characters on the CCG side of things who haven’t even seemed to realize the theme of the manga is how they treat ghouls, not how they resolve their own personal issues and resolve to treat other humans slightly nicer while still mostly ignoring ghouls. What I’m saying is, it’s a bit odd to me how Goat’s side of things was punished, and it looks like the humans who went down to the 24th ward are about to get punished too, but the rest seem to be relatively consequence free for now.

Say what you will about Ishida’s style of writing, as you said in your ask his sense of narrative Karma is almost perfect.

#metasks #Anonymous

72 notes · View notes

sidon-reader-support · 7 years

Note

Ok I just want to say thank you for running this lovely blog!! I was wondering I've seen a few little stories floating around here and I had this idea with Sidon and a S/o with long hair and he is just kinda fascinated by it since Zora don't have hair. Like what if learned how to do braids? I just thought it would be super cute. Thank you for all this, have a great day!

(Agreed!~ Sidon being a cute doofus is what I live for~ Sidon is what I live for!~ Enjoy!~)

Long Haired S/o:

Warnings: Fluff, excessive usage of the word hair, braids (my old enemy)

Hair Is Fascinating

- It goes without saying that Zoras do not have hair so the fact that you do and that it is quite a lot of it makes Sidon especially fascinated and curious because he can now get an up close look at it

- You can almost always find him nearby when your brushing and taking care of your flowing locks he admires and also finds it rather amusing how much work you put into keeping your hair so soft and shiny

- Sidon loves when he wakes up and sees your hair all tussled and disheveled from rolling around in your sleep, it’s a cute sight seeing all the strands sticking up in strange ways

- But then it is even more magical when you disappear into the bathroom for a while or sit down at the vanity and manage to tame all of it with experienced ease

- How can one person manage such a large amount of hair? It is bewildering to him

- That’s why Sidon likes to watch you brush it because he wants to learn the whole process of tending to every single strand so carefully hoping that maybe he could learn to help you

- When you first hand the brush over to him he is confused and turns to you perplexed but then you go sit down in front of the vanity waving him over and he eagerly rushes over to you

- Sidon was giddy with excitement when he ran the brush slowly through your long hair even more fascinated by how smooth it feels and the way it falls gently from his hands back to its original position

- He’d quickly pick up the habit of playing with your hair while you sit in his lap, just carefully running his fingers through it which you have no problem with because it feels nice and helps you relax

- One time you fell asleep in his lap while he was messing with your hair and he decided to style your hair in a ponytail that sprouted up from the top of your head

- Sidon couldn’t stop laughing when you woke up and scolded him (though you were laughing too)

Tries To Get Creative

- When he learns that you want to try some new styles, Sidon is immediately interested in trying to help you get a little creative with your hair

- Going out to nearby towns and visiting the stores and salons in order to find ideas as well as purchase pretty bands, pins, and other small accessories to add some color to your hair

- He tends to go a little overboard with how much he buys because he knows all of it would look good on you and he can’t decide which ones he likes e so he just ends up buying a bunch of them

- While out in the towns he would look at other Hylians and how they style their hair taking note of the different curls or braids that they add to give it a special flair

- It inspires him to suggest that you should try braiding your hair and he also volunteers to do it for you so you do not have to strain your arms to reach around

- And of course you can’t say no because he pulls those awfully good puppy-dog eyes out and you’re rendered helpless (not that you mind, you think it’s sweet that he’s so eager to help)

- However when you two actually do sit down to let Sidon try his hand at braiding you quickly realize that he is atrocious at braiding

- The Hylian children Sidon had watched braid each other’s hair made it look so easy but now he knew that it took great skill, skill that he did not quite have

- Your hair is rendered a complete and utter disaster as if every strand was sucked up into a tornado that twisted, pulled, and curled everything and then spat all of it back out with some sparkling hair clips tossed into the mix

- It takes you the rest of the day to undo the mess and the entire time Sidon is sulking and apologizing and he does his best to help in cleaning his mess though he isn’t allowed to touch your hair for that day and a little while after that (you’re not mad, just stressed)

Riju and Zelda To The Rescue

- Even though his initial attempt was such a disaster the Zora is undeterred in his mission to help you make your hair look even nicer but there is no way he can just go back and try again

- He needs someone to teach him

- Sidon almost immediately thinks of Princess Zelda and Riju because he feels most comfortable with them and they both have long hair styled in very unique ways, especially Riju, so surely they would be able to give him some pointers

- Next time that their is a Champions meeting, he asks them for help though he knows it is a little improper to ask the chief of a powerful village of well-trained female fighters and the princess of Hyrule for advice on braiding and styling hair (hair that he doesn’t have)

- The two are a little taken aback by the sudden request but when they learn the reason as to why Sidon wants to learn they find it so sweet that they gladly accept

- All three plan meeting at Zelda’s palace when all of their schedules are clear so that Riju and Zelda may give the Zora tips and pointers while offering their own hair for Sidon to practice on (like teenage girls at a slumber party)

- The first trials go just slightly better than the first and the two women have to deal with some sore heads and teaching at a very slow pace so that Sidon can gradually pick up the process until he doesn’t need them coach him through it

- You, on the other hand, start getting worried by Sidon’s frequent visits to the palace especially because whenever you ask the Zora what he is doing all that he tells you is that it’s just political matters

- Sidon doesn’t like lying to you and he knows that you’re worried but he also knows that once he finally does master the techniques he’ll be able to make it up to you

Surprise (Get Creative Pt. 2)

- It is only after about two weeks of Sidon’s “training,” he finally manages to do Zelda’s braids without any mistakes that he feels that he is comfortable enough with his new skills that he can finally go back to you

- The two women would present him with a small jewelry box custom-made by order of Princess Zelda with the Zora symbol engraved in the top

- The box would contain special accessories from Riju’s personal collection back in Gerudo village so that Sidon could put them to good use on you

- Golden hair jewelry encrusted with different cuts of sapphire, ruby, and emerald to give it that extra glimmer. Simple gold bands or ones bedazzled with jewels, headdresses with small chains or jewels hanging from them, etc

- “They’re a bit too big for me but I’m sure they’ll love them much more than I do.”

- The Zora would be so appreciative that he��d completely forget about all formalities and would scoop both of the girls into his arms to hug them and express his gratitude

- Then he’d rush back to the Zora Kingdom, leaving the two a bit shaken but just as happy, to give the jewelry box to you and while you are still awe and shock by such fancy jewelry he’d ask if you’d do the honor of giving him one more shot

- You sit down without hesitation and are just as surprised as the Zora gives you a waterfall braid adorning it with a golden flower clip courtesy of Riju

- As he is doing this he comes clean about what he has actually been doing on his visits and how he had been aiming to surprise you (you are thoroughly surprised and impressed)

- It’s safe to say that was not the last time you let him do your hair and you love those relaxing moments where you get to sit in the Zora’s lap and just let him try out new braids on you

- Be careful falling sleep on him now, he will give you dozens of small braids that stick out of your head in odd directions

#headcanons #sidon headcanons #botw headcanons #sidon #prince sidon #riju #chief riju #zelda #princess zelda #botw #breath of the wild #long haired!s/o

336 notes · View notes